Secrets from the Grey Area
by Watery-the-Strange
Summary: A nameless evil emerges, and it's after Flonne. Will the trio be able to uncover the grey areas in Flonne's past? Or will this new enemy drag her into a world of obscurity? Many things are unclear. LaharlxFlonne
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea. I tried my best with the prologue, but I'm kinda lousy with beginnings. Have mercy, and enjoy the fic. RxR.**

**Prologue-**

It was a place of infinite calm, a great void that existed all throughout the Netherworld. It was the place everyone who gate travels has been to, but has never seen. It was the darkness inside of all of the souls of the living, and the sins of the dead that had congealed into an almost tangible form. It was in this sad, quiet place—where everything and nothing happened all at once—where the evil one lived.

Well, okay, technically he was frozen and left for dead in this great divide, but since his heart was still able to beat once per century, we have to say he's alive. Some might think this is a trifling detail. They have never been more wrong. It is very, VERY important that we all know that this nameless evil is alive.

In the heart of this wasteland, the evil one lay entombed in the statue of what looked like a young angel girl, perhaps three years old. She wore a ribbon in her hair and a frilled dress, but her feet were bare, and her face was flooded with innocence. Traditionally, every angel wore the cross on their clothing, and right where this angel girl wore her cross—along her abdomen, sewn into her one-piece ensemble—the evil one was bound within the seams. His own face was calm, as if being in this girl's prescence was a balm for his many hurts. "One day," he breathed to himself. "It will come soon."

Almost as if in answer to his words, a shadow flitted out of the nothingness. It crawled along the undefinable edges of the place. Soon, it settled at the feet of the statue. "Master?"

"You have come back. After all this time."

"It was in my best interests, sire," the shadow replied.

"Spoken like a true devil, sirrah. Now loose my chains so I can give you the punishment I have planned for you. You know that it will fall upon you one day."

"One day," came the agreeable reply. "But not today. I have news for you."

The evil one shifted his gaze down to the shadow. "It is about the angel?"

"Of course."

"Where is she?"

The shadow hesitated. "It took me a very long time to track the girl down, my lord. As you know, she's been protected by the Seraph Lamington."

"I expected that."

"It was almost impossible to find her. But as time passed, her aura has become more pronounced, and it left a trail out of Celestia…"

"And it leads to?"

"The Overlord's castle…in the Netherworld."

This surprised the evil one. "So close by…"

"The Seraph certainly is a fool, is he not, my lord?"

The evil one merely glanced at the shadow. "The Seraph's magic was part of the reason why I became trapped here. And he has successfully hidden my queen from me while I lay in an almost catatonic state. You wouldn't dare hint that a being with an intelligence that rivals my own is a fool…"

"N-no, sire! Of course not!"

"But no matter. I have you to thank for my convelescence after all."

"I…yes, sire."

"And as soon as I am strong enough to leave this shell, I will find the angel girl…and I will make her pay for breaking me."

"You should also find this interesting," the shadow interjected. "She's actually living with King Laharl. I've been watching her, and they seem close in a way. But I don't think she remembers…well, what she did all those years ago."

"You know this for certain? Don't lie to me, sirrah!"

"It's true! I've been watching her for months. She's happy and unconcerned with the world, and the Overlord pays her more attention than all of his vassals combined."

"Interesting…"

For a while, neither of them spoke. Then the shadow tentatively uttered:

"How long do you think it will be until you are free, master?"

"That depends on how long it will take for you to bring me the girl. If what you say is true, then not only will she be my ticket out of here, but I can enact my revenge on her and use her as a bargaining chip to take the Netherworld. Afterwards, it won't be long until I bring Celestia to its knees as well."

"Very good, master. Very good."

"Yes…now go. I wish to ponder in silence."

"You've been doing that for a long time, my lord. To be frank—"

"I have pondered in silence for many years…and I will continue to do so until I am freed. It is then when the silence will be broken forever. Go."

The shadow obeyed. But as it left the place of the statue, it couldn't drown out the sound of a faint, sinister laughter that floated in the wind. It shivered and vanished from whence it came.


	2. A Shadow of a Memory

**Disclaimer: I do not own disgaea. Because if I, in any way, had some ownership over Disgaea, chances are I'd be working for Nippon-Ichi Software. And we all know that I don't work for Nippon-Ichi Software because if I did, I'd be too busy cranking out the good stuff to update any of my stories. So now you know. Once again, RxR.**

**Chapter One- A Shadow of a Memory**

_A small child cringed in terror as the sound of fresh slaughter reached her ears. It was the middle of the night and she had been frolicking unconcerned in the midst of happy dreams--that is, until the clatter outside had woken her up. Her eyes snapped open as she listened to the strange keening sound in the wind, the disturbing thunks of a drawn blade colliding with flesh suddenly ending the cries forever--but of course, the child had no idea of its true meaning. At first, she laid absolutely still, trying to remember where she was and why. Then, as recognition swept over her, so did her fears, and she struggled madly to get out of bed._

_As she flailed beneath her quilt, she could have sworn that she was suffocating--it was like time had stopped as she finally ripped the covers away with fistfuls of the fabric in her small, tightly clenched fists. She sat up in bed, breathing heavily as though struggling with a great burden._

_Her first thoughts were for her mother and father. But as she lifted her gaze around her bedroom--her crystal blue eyes as wide as saucers--the only thing she saw was darkness; nothing more. Nervously, she clutched her teddy bear tighter to her chest and murmured, "Momma?"_

_There was no answer. Summoning courage, she lifted her feet over the side of the mattress and tumbled down onto the wooden floor. As she rose unsteadily to her feet, she spotted the arm of her bear dangling over the edge. She reached up and brought the stuffed animal into her welcoming arms. That feeling, at least, was familiar to her. "Come on, Kozu," she whispered to the bear. "Let's go find momma." _

_The bear didn't reply, but she pretended it had. If she could have put words in the seamed lips of the toy, she would have imagined it saying, "Hurry! Hurry!"_

_She pushed the door open and peeked out into the shadows of the hallway beyond. She took a tentative step out of her room, then another. The darkness seemed to press down upon her from all sides, smothering all of the sound of her little feet upon the floor--though outside, a battle continued to rage on. The child could hear the shouts and the cries, the clanging of steel against steel, the smiting of weapons in the night. She had to stop for a minute, shutting her eyes tight as she tried to steal back her thoughts. She took a couple of deep breaths, but they sounded like faint, child-like sobs. Suddenly she realized that there were tears streaking down her cheeks._

_As she opened her eyes again, the girl spotted a dim, flickering light farther down the passage. "Momma!" she screamed, abandoning all of her foreboding as she stumbled towards the door. Her searching fingertips had barely grazed the wooden surface when she heard a sound that made her freeze._

_There were voices coming from inside the room._

_"What was that?" a gruff, male voice inquired. The child strained to listen and jumped as a number of small objects fell to the floor. It sounded as if the man had dropped a coin purse, and the spoils were rolling around on the hardened planks. She waited as silence took a hold of the company beyond the door._

_Two tense minutes passed before another man grumbled, "It was probably one of the neighbors or something. Soshi and his team are probably trashing the place as we speak."_

_"Humans are such weaklings," the other agreed with a dark chuckle._

_The girl felt her heart skip a beat. "Demons," she breathed. She gripped her bear tightly in her arms as she dared herself to take a peek through the rusty key hole. At first, everything was difficult to make out. She could barely discern the shadowy masses that were the demons who were plundering the kitchen. For a while, she just watched them ambling about in awe. She had never seen a demon in her entire life, and had only heard about them in the legends the elders told--of course, they were all gruesome in the ears of the child. Still...it was natural that she was curious._

_But soon a sense of urgency gripped her. She backed away from the door, being very careful not to budge it from its place and draw attention to herself. 'Where's momma?' she thought frantically, suddenly very afraid. The small child felt very vulnerable in a house filled with bloodthirsty thieves and no mother and father to make things okay again. _

_Without warning, a bright light flared behind her, shrouding her in an eerie blue mist. The child turned slowly to face it._

_Her eyes dilated in terror. "Momma..."_

_The bear fell to the floor. It didn't make a sound._

_--_

Flonne awoke with a start. Her eyes were wide and panicked, and stared blankly up at the ceiling as she gathered her senses. Slowly, she rolled up into a sitting position, breathing heavily. The thin sheet on her bed tumbled onto the floor, and as she reached over to pick it up, the fallen angel suddenly realized that she was shivering.

No wonder. She was drenched in sweat. Her shaking hands draped the sheet around her slender frame as she headed for the full-length mirror in the corner of her room in an attempt to keep warm. She winced slightly as she took in her tossled appearance, scrutinizing the dark, haunted expression on her face. Lifting her gaze upwards, she also noticed that she had a wicked case of bed-head.

"I need a shower," Flonne murmured to herself. As she reached for the hair-brush on her desk, however, a fist slammed into the door. In alarm, the fallen angel let it fall to the floor. It made a soft thunk as it collided with the soft carpet.

"Flonne!!"

She shot a startled look towards the door. What was Laharl doing visiting her this early in the morning? Her thoughts raced through her mind too quickly for her to grasp them. But as her eyes moved past a calendar on her wall, she noticed the date. She could barely contain her exclaimation.

"A year already?"

Of course! That had to be the reason. Today was the anniversary of her punishment--it had been an entire year since she had become a fallen angel. Laharl must be here to celebrate. How on earth had she forgotten so easily? Especially after she went through all the trouble of marking it on her calendar.

Suddenly, Laharl's fist pounded on the door again, snatching Flonne from her reverie.

"Flonne! Get your ass out here!"

"Hai, Laharl-san," she replied, hastily picking up the brush and running it through her tangled hair. It took a while, but by the time she deemed herself decent to be seen, Laharl was in a sour mood.

"What took you so long?" he demanded. He just caught sight of her elusive tail and noticed that it was missing its usual ribbon—in fact, her entire appearance was bedraggled and harried, which was odd considering that Flonne was usually one of the first one up in the entire castle. He was curious all right, but he was annoyed, so he wasted no time on pleasantries.

"Where's my breakfast? It should have been on a plate in front of me forty minutes ago. What's taking so damn long??" He shot an accusing glance at Flonne, as though deeming it all her fault. His crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And why aren't you up yet?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I just overslept..." Inadvertantly, her thoughts strayed back to her dream, which she was having a lot of trouble remembering at the moment. She was certain about some things...there was a blue light, and she'd been afraid...but...

"Hmmph," Laharl sniffed, bringing Flonne back to the present. He must have noticed that she was spacing out.

"I think today is the Prinny's day off," she blurted as a means of explanation, hoping that Laharl didn't notice her flushed cheeks.

"Flonne, prinnies don't get a day off!"

"Well, no, you're right," Flonne amended. "But Etna said that she'd be taking the day off today, and therefore…" She let her voice trail off pointlessly.

"The prinnies are with her," Laharl grumbled. "Damn her! What am I supposed to eat??"

Flonne mustered up a meek answer. "I could always—" She tried to bring herself to say cook, but the word never had time to leave her mouth.

"No." Laharl snapped. "You are never allowed to cook for me again, ever!"

"Hai, Laharl-san," she sighed. "I'm getting better at cooking, though. Really."

"Dammit, I said no!"

"Well," said Flonne slowly as she groped for a solution, "since you don't want me to cook for you, and you can't wait…why don't we go out to eat?" It was becoming more and more obvious that Laharl wasn't thinking about today at all. In fact, Flonne was realizing that it was his empty stomach that sent her to her door-step instead of what she wanted it to be: him wanting her company. Her heart sank faster than a brick in quicksand.

Laharl shrugged. "I'm not in the mood to make the trip. But that's not a bad idea, come to think of it…" He thought about it for a moment, then pointed at Flonne. "I want you to go to the nearest restaurant and bring me back something good."

Flonne nodded, but didn't move right away. She just couldn't stand not knowing if he had truly remembered or not.

"Laharl-san?"

"What is it now?"

She looked uncomfortable now. He sounded irate. It was as if he found her bothersome and annoying.

"I…isn't there anything you want to say?"

Laharl gave her a blank look.

"To me?" Flonne added hopefully.

"Like what?" he asked with a sarcastic laugh. "What could I possibly have to say to you, love freak?"

"Well…about today…"

Laharl gave her a steely glare. "What about today? You mean the fact that I'm starving to death, and you won't get off your lazy ass fast enough to serve me?"

"No!" Flonne floundered, looking very distressed now. For a long time she searched for the right words before she blurted out, "Don't you know what day it is??"

"Yeah," said Laharl. "Thursday. Now get moving!"

Flonne looked crushed. Lowering her gaze to the floor, she barely was able to mumble, "Hai," before leaving her room. Laharl watched her disappear through the set of double doors at the end of the hallway and waited a few minutes to be sure that she was gone. As soon as her footsteps receded, he relaxed a little, but the scowl never left his face. The fact that Flonne was acting like such a loony really got under his skin.

"I wonder what's eating her," he muttered. "Damn! Etna had better have a good excuse for keeping me waiting like this!"

--

**A/N: Okay, sorry for the delay. I really tried to cram a lot into this one chapter, and it took me longer than expected. I hope you enjoyed it. RxR!**


	3. Good Intentions

**Disclaimer- I do not own Disgaea. If anyone even questions the veracity of this statement, Laharl's going to whale them with his Cosmic Blade. Because even though I don't own Laharl or his vassals, I do own this story. The possibilities are endless...MU WA HA HA HA HA HA!!**

**A/N: Just so you know, I'm throwing in a flashback. See? This is one of those possibilities I mentioned earlier. :)**

**Chapter Two- The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions**

Flonne tramped miserably through the castle. She couldn't believe that Laharl had forgotten. It had been an entire year since he had been purged from his sins and restored to his former body. And exactly a year before that, Flonne had received her punishment as well. How could something that brought them both so much happiness be forgotten so easily? How?

Closing her eyes, she can still see it all very faintly...the past two years of her life flashed before her eyes as she tried to make sense of the situation.

--

_Two Years Earlier..._

Everyone stared at Vulcanus, vastly hidden by the heavy folds of the fabric he had been wearing, shortly before being transformed into an ugly-looking toad. This was, the Seraph had assured them, his punishment for manipulating the humans into trying to conquer the Netherworld. And Etna, who was unable to get over the arch-angel's ridiculous predicament, had burst out laughing...that is, until she saw the look on Laharl's face.

"I can't accept it."

Flonne looked at Laharl in astonishment. Out of the corner of her eye, she could also see Etna and the Seraph eying the overlord with interest as well. From a distance, it seemed, Vulcanus the toad was croaking his lamentations, and was justly ignored by all present. But the deep-throated vibrations coming from the frog seemed to synchronize with Flonne's heartbeat--which had suddenly started to race faster at his words.

"Sin and punishment," he growled, "saying words that seem just..." He looked at Lamington-sama with obvious distaste. "Because you just wanted to save yourself, you simply stopped him from talking?"

Flonne was stunned. "Laharl-san, why would you say such..." She paused, unable to let the words out. It seemed so strange, so painful that Laharl would have doubts in her hero, the great Seraph Lamington. After all he had done in the name of love and justice...it just didn't seem right to her.

But then Laharl gave her a side-long glance, scrutinizing her face. It was as though he could see the hero-worship in her face, and didn't like it. The look in his eyes was one she knew very well. There was no denying the disapproval she saw in him.

Before she could say anything else, Laharl had looked away from her.

"From the very beginning, the one who ordered Flonne to kill my father was you, right? Weren't you the one who wanted to take over the Netherworld and control everything?"

And then the angel knew exactly what he was driving at. Hurt flashed in her crystal blue eyes as she shifted her gaze from Laharl to the Seraph, who she had always followed faithfully...perhaps blindly? She didn't know who or what to believe. The confusion hurt worse than anything else. She had always believed in Lamington-sama, but then...she had always wanted to believe in Laharl as well. And he hadn't disappointed her yet. So...what to do?

"I wanted to bring peace to the Netherworld," came his simple explanation.

"What?" Laharl growled in disbelief. It was obvious that he wasn't buying it.

"I knew that your father, King Krichevskoy, had passed away. But since then, the Netherworld surrounding the king's palace became a world of chaos with endless fighting. In order to restore the Netherworld to order, we needed the power of yours," Lamington said to Laharl, "which was sleeping because of the poison. So I sent Flonne," here he sent the angel an analytical glance, "to awaken you."

Etna made an incredulous sound. "Is that right? Flonne-chan," she sputtered, "did you know?"

Suddenly, all eyes were on the angel trainee.

"This is the first time I'm hearing it," she answered softly.

"Wait a minute!" Laharl protested. "I'm controlling the Netherworld for myself, not for you people!"

The Seraph chose to ignore this, however.

"You've done well, Flonne."

"Listen when I'm talking!!" snarled the overlord, indignantly.

"For someone to be more ignorant than His Highness," Etna commented to herself. Only Flonne had heard her, but something else troubled her at the moment. She turned her questioning eyes on the Seraph, silently imploring for permission to speak. Lamington regard the trainee with a calm smile, and Flonne took heart.

"But why was that mission given to me?"

"It was for love," Lamington replied.

"Love," Flonne repeated dumbly. She felt as though she had never truly understood the word before until it had passed the Seraph's lips. It was as though she were hearing it for the first time.

"My goal was not only to bring peace to the Netherworld, but to rule the Netherworld, Heaven, and the human world with love."

Etna cringed. "Now you've said it," she gasped. "Love freak's boss..."

"For that purpose," Lamington continued gravely, "you and Laharl-sama must learn about love."

"That's none of your concern," Laharl snapped. "Do you have any idea what we went through because of that?" Flonne realized with a jolt that he was referring to that battle on the human space station. And then it hit her once again. The memory of those angels scattering into nothingness, harmed by their own spells that rebounded off of her barrier. Her heart plummetted, just as it did the first time she realized what it would mean once she arrived in Celestia...

"Those fights weren't part of my intention, however...in the end, I hurt everyone," said the Seraph sadly. "I must pay the price for that mistake."

"Of course!" said Etna, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. After all, what was it to her if the Seraph were to be transformed into another toad?

"But before that..." Lamington added. "Angel trainee, Flonne."

The sound of her name felt like a stone smacking her in the chest. "Yes."

"Completing your mission in the Netherworld and stopping Vulcanus's recklessness are deeds of merit. But your sin of hurting the army of angels, who are citizens of Heaven just as you are, is heavy." He opened his eyes, looking straight into hers. A beam of understanding linked their gazes together, and Flonne, though still nervous, was suddenly certain that things would somehow work out for the best. She had full trust in the Seraph.

"You must be punished for that," he said.

Flonne forced a calm, tranquil smile upon her face--after all, it certainly hadn't been a surprise. Etna, on the other hand, had let her mouth drop open in astonishment--all this time she had been agreeing with the harsh law of the angels, but now...now that it threatened to take away a close friend, she couldn't bear it. Flonne nodded at Etna in reassurance. After all, she had known this would come for a long time.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I am well prepared."

This was the truth. She was absolutely prepared for her punishment. She had been prepared for it for a long time.

No...what she _wasn't _prepared for was Laharl's reaction.

"Hey! What are you saying?" he demanded, moving in between Flonne and the Seraph. "Why must she be punished?"

The anger flashing in his eyes was genuine, for this too was an expression Flonne had seen several times before. But somehow this was entirely different from all of those other times. This was a righteous anger. He was trying to protect her, Flonne, the Love Freak.

"Yeah," Etna agreed, looking determined. "If you do strange things to Flonne-chan, I won't just stand by and let it happen!"

A content smile blossomed on Flonne's face. The thought of her friends so close and so protective of her made her happier than words could describe.

"It's all right," she said. "I knew it would turn out this way."

Laharl turned to her in shock, his jaw hanging open like a busted gate. Etna looked almost as shocked as the overlord. They were so frozen with this feeling that neither one had the strength to stop Flonne as she made her way past them and over to the steps leading up towards the Seraph. Laharl's expression grew increasingly more incredulous as Flonne knelt before him. Hastily, she made sure that her back was entirely facing the overlord so that she wouldn't have to see the look on his face. The fact that he cared made her deliriously happy, but it hurt too. If she even looked into his face, Flonne knew that she would start crying--and that wasn't what she wanted. She never wanted Laharl to see her cry.

So she turned her face to the Seraph instead, who's tranquility seemed to be contagious. "Lamington-sama, this is Flonne's last wish," she pleaded. "The ones here, Laharl-san and Etna-san, please forgive their sins. The two of them were only involved because of me."

"W-wait, Flonne-chan!" Etna cried.

"What are you saying?!" Laharl demanded. "You haven't done anything wrong!"

She ignored them both--though it took all of her self-control to keep her gaze fixed on the Seraph. His gaze seemed to cut through her like a knife. Then, after a tense pause, he broke the silence.

"I understand."

"Appreciated," said Flonne. It amazed even herself how easy it was to keep the sadness out of her voice. Behind her, she knew that Laharl was not taking this very well.

"Stop it!" he cried, rushing forward.

For a few moments, Flonne let that golden light bathe her as it cleansed her of her sins.

"Flonne..." she heard Laharl gasp, as though he were in great pain. And suddenly, she couldn't resist temptation anymore. She looked back towards him and saw him struggling against the light, trying to reach her, to pull her away--to stop whatever it was that was happening to her.

Understanding flared in her eyes like blue flames. Laharl wanted her to stay...with him. The smile she bestowed upon him was pure radiance.

"Laharl-san, I'm sorry," she said. "I was a servant that wasn't helpful right up to the end." Sadness strained her voice, but she never let that smile leave her face. She had to at least try to convince him that she was worthless after all. Perhaps then it wouldn't hurt him so much, and that would make this punishment much easier to bear. She forced herself to continue. "Believing in you was the only right thing I did."

Laharl gritted his teeth, whether in anger, frustration, pain, or all three Flonne never knew.

"You really are a useless idiot," he said, his crimson eyes wide, that scowl only half-real now. His expression reminded her of a child, helpless in the face of great hardship, full of awe and fear.

"You've shown me that even devils can love," Flonne continued, warmed by his concern.

"Don't say something I can't understand," he hissed angrily. He beckoned towards her, his hand outstretched to catch hers and to reel her back to him. "Now, let's go back to the Netherworld."

Pain stabbed her through the heart. If only she could. Flonne found herself clutching the pendant the Seraph gave her--the pendant that led her to Laharl in the first place--the pendant that he saved from the volcano, for her. She wondered if it would still burn him.

"Laharl-san," she murmured. "Can you take this pendant?" Innocently, she held it out towards him.

Laharl didn't protest. He reached out to take it from her, when suddenly, Etna screamed a warning at him.

"Your Highness, if you touch that again..."

But Laharl ignored her entirely. Flonne could barely contain her surprise as he continued to comply with her request. Her last request. Utter sadness permeated her, and she could no longer look at him. She knew then that if his skin even brushed against hers while she handed him the pendant, he would try to pull her away. And she also knew that if that happened, she wouldn't do anything to stop him. She wanted to badly to return with him to the Netherworld...

...but that was never to be...

Flonne let the pendant drop through her fingers. It slid out of her grasp like water and fell to the ground. Frantically, Laharl caught it in a tightly clenched fist, unwilling to let that one piece of the angel leave him--especially one that was so important to her. And it hit them both that the sudden contact of holy metal against the demon's flesh wasn't causing him any physical pain. Laharl slowly unclenched his fist, staring dumbfoundedly at the pendant. Meaning seemed to hit him with the impact of a locomotive, and his shut his eyes tight, as though trying to bar it away. However, Flonne noticed him clutching the pendant tighter in his hand.

"Your Highness," Etna murmured.

Soon, Flonne could feel him raising his eyes to her in confusion. He wanted to know why she was doing this, why she was leaving him so suddenly. But the angel trainee could give him no answer. All she knew was that this had to happen. She had no choice.

So she smiled again.

"Good-bye, Laharl-san, Etna-san. Thank you for all that you've done..."

And that was the last thing Flonne could remember clearly about that day.

--

It had truly surprised her that Laharl actually cared about what happened to her. He was even willing to sacrifice his life for hers.

Flonne thought she understood Laharl's motives in doing so. Seeing the pain etched into his face had convinced her that Laharl had fallen in love with her...or at least, he didn't despise her anymore. She was miserable without him around--it was all she could bear to keep living, knowing that it was for her own sake that Laharl had ended his life. But this loss only strengthened her belief in the power of love. It inspired her to spread the message throughout the Netherworld, and now that Etna was overlord, Flonne found herself in the position to do so.

Etna knew that Flonne was suffering, and hoped that this new job would distract her from what was so obviously missing. Through the fallen angel's guidance, hundreds of young demons came to her to learn about the power of love, and how it would keep the Netherworld safe from harm. Flonne was an excellent teacher, but there was no doubt that behind her bright smile and cheerful disposition there was emptiness in her heart. Something she needed as badly as she needed air to breathe and water to drink had been taken away forever.

But then, to everyone's surprise, Laharl had come back. Flonne could still remember the shock of seeing those crimson eyes staring out of the body of a prinny. A prinny Laharl. It was strange...and it was better than anything Flonne had expected. Suddenly, she started to live again.

Etna still refused to believe that Laharl had come back, but took a particular liking to the new prinny. She said that it reminded her of an obstinate prince she used to know. At the time, Etna had expected Flonne to wince in pain, or to look vaguely distracted at the very least. But all she could do was smile and smile. It was like Christmas came early.

It took a long time for Laharl to adjust to his life as a prinny. Though it killed him to do so, he worked night and day like those very same servants he had loathed and pushed around. Flonne would watch him sometimes and could see the empathy sinking into him--what it was like to be a servant, what it was like to be oppressed. She could see that it was making him even kinder still. It was a lesson well-learned. But all that time he absolutely refused to associate with Flonne. Every time she tried to talk to him or embrace him, he would scowl at her and put on the prinny facade.

"Sorry, dood," he growled. "I'm busy. Leave me to my work."

It had hurt Flonne at first, and she couldn't understand why Laharl was avoiding her in this new shape. But soon she began to notice how he would eye his flipper-like wings with pure venom. Sometimes he would become clumsy with his peg-legs and would stumble and fall. Flonne would try to help him up, and he would push her away, glowering at the cursed body he was trapped in. It occurred to Flonne after several months that Laharl simply couldn't bear to watch Flonne have to associate with a lowly prinny, even if _he_ was that lowly prinny. He whole-heartedly believed that she deserved someone better--someone who could love her the way she wanted to be loved. A prinny could never keep her satisfied, or so he thought.

Flonne did everything she could to prove him wrong. She comforted him when he was sad, calmed him down when he was angry, and gave him hope that maybe things would turn out for the best. It wasn't until an entire year after he had returned to her that he allowed the fallen angel to plant a kiss on his forehead. He glowered a bit--it was his nature, after all--but he didn't push her away.

That was what finally broke the spell.

It had been a long year, one of the longest for both of them. But during that difficult time, Laharl's pride had been broken down to a more reasonable height, and the parts that been broken away were replaced with wisdom and respect. The moment Flonne's lips left his forehead, the Seraph had suddenly appeared before them both.

"Laharl," Lamington said, towering over the prinny who was staring at him with shock and--Flonne really couldn't blame him, though she certainly didn't agree with it--dislike. "For an entire year you have worked alongside the creatures you once scorned. I believe you have truly begun to learn the power of love. Do you agree?"

The prinny shot a look at Flonne, but said nothing. After a tense silence, he gave a stiff nod. "Not that it's any of _your_ business," he added under his breath.

"Very well," the Seraph said with that calm smile of his. "I hereby cleanse you, Laharl, former King of the Netherworld, of all of your sins. I have come to restore you to your old body." He held out his hand, placed that deadly palm into the prinny's face.

Flonne started in horror. It was too similar to the way she had been punished. Laharl had finally returned to her--in mind and in spirit. Now would the Seraph take him away from her again. She darted forward, but something about the way Lamington-sama had looked at her made her freeze. Then, she remembered his words. "Y-you're going to help Laharl?" she stammered, hardly daring to believe.

Lamington nodded. She couldn't move or breathe, and finally, Laharl had to grab her hand with his wing and pull her back down in order to get her out of reach of the Seraph. He too was a bit unnerved by how similar things were. Flonne could tell that he couldn't get the memory of her punishment out of his mind.

"Whatever happens to me," said Laharl, "won't hurt Flonne?"

"No."

"Do you swear it?"

"I do."

"Good," said Laharl. "Because I swear to God--if there even is a God--that if I find that you've lied to me, or to her, I'll kill you with my own bare hands. There won't be mercy for you a second time."

"Laharl-san!" Flonne cried, looking quickly to see whether the Seraph was angry. To her relief, she could see that he was not. But she still was taken aback by the fervency of this threat. She could see murder carefully traced in those crimson eyes.

Laharl would never forgive Lamington. Flonne knew that now.

But Lamington only smiled. "You still have much left to learn, Laharl-dono. But you may resume your training as you were."

A blinding light erupted from the palm of his hand and surrounded the prinny. When it faded away, Flonne couldn't see a thing; only a huddled shape lying on the floor. But as she slowly got her senses back, she recognized the lithe, muscular body. It was Laharl.

Laharl!

"Laharl!" she cried, scrambling over to his side and turning him over. The demon's eyes were closed, but his nose scrunched up as though he had a head-ache. Slowly, his eyes eased open.

"Do you have to scream in my ear, love freak?" he asked softly. There was a faint smile on his face, only meant for her.

Feeling as though her heart would burst with emotion, Flonne wrapped her arms around him and clung to him tightly. Tears fell from her eyes and left marks on the luxurious red velvet cape. Sobbing with abandon, the fallen angel buried her face in his chest and cuddled him--she felt Laharl stiffen instinctively, then relax. Gently, he laid his hand on the back of her head.

"Could you get off?" he asked. "I have to kill the Seraph now."

From across the room, Lamington observed them with amusement in his eyes.

"L-Laharl," she sniffled. "Why would you do that? Lamington-sama just did a merciful thing just now."

This really was not something Laharl wanted to hear. Apparently the thought of being in debt to someone he so despised made him feel sick. But he sat up and pulled her into a sitting position, holding her close to steady himself.

"That bastard said that it wouldn't hurt you," he growled.

"Eh?" she murmured, not understanding.

Laharl took his gaze off of the Seraph and looked into her deep blue eyes. "He said that whatever he did to me wouldn't hurt you. And now look at you, love freak! You're a mess!"

Flonne let loose a watery chuckle as she pulled him into a hug. "I'm not a mess," she said. "I love you, Laharl-san."

Laharl winced, but tolerated it, moving his hand through her golden hair in a comforting manner. "Whatever. He still made you cry." He moved to make towards Lamington, but as they both turned to face the Seraph, they found no one there. They were the only ones left in the room.

"Dammit!" Laharl growled, slamming a fist into the floor. "Now look at what you've done, Flonne..."

She looked at him, pain fresh in her eyes again. Was he truly angry with her?

Suddenly, his face softened again. "Oh, well..." he sighed. "At least everything's back to normal. Right?"

Flonne felt as though she would never be sad again. Beaming at Laharl, she smiled through her tears. Above them, the sun emerged from behind a cloud, and the golden light spilled in through the window. The darkness was gone from both of their hearts.

--

And as soon as those words were said, hope flared in Flonne's heart. Maybe...now that he had finally accepted love in his heart...just maybe he would begin to love her, Flonne.

She knew it was crazy. Laharl _was_ Laharl after all, even if he was kinder now.

She knew it was selfish.

But she didn't care. Flonne knew with a sudden poignancy that she had fallen in love with the Overlord, and she didn't want to let that feeling go. Which was why Flonne could not understand for the life of her why Laharl forgot the anniversay of his own restoration.

Still confused, Flonne continued on her way towards the dimension gate in the castle. But what she didn't know was that as she went off to get Laharl his breakfast, a dark shadow slithered along the wall, keeping out of sight. Unnoticed, it followed her down the hallway and through the set of doors she passed. It barely got itself through before she shut the door behind her with a decisive snap.

Darkness had sealed itself in with her--and it didn't seem to want to leave her alone.

--

A/N: Okay, that's Chapter Two. Sorry for it being so long, but it's a very important chapter. The fact that Laharl hates Lamington is a very important theme in the story. VERY IMPORTANT!! It will influence the way the story will turn out in later chapters. And that's all I have to say. RxR.


	4. Chaos Come GiftWrapped

**Disclaimer- I do not own Disgaea. Man, I'm getting really tired of writing that. Next time, I'm just going to be a demon about the whole thing and copy and paste from the last chapter…the Disclaimer I mean, not the chapter itself. C'mon, would I really waste everyone's time like that by posting the same chapter twice?? **

**Such a calamity would be less likely to occur, however, if I were to receive more reviews…(ahem, cough, cough). **

**No seriously, if I don't start getting more reviews…I won't be responsible for my actions…okay?!**

**And now, without further ado:**

**Chapter Three- Chaos Comes Gift-Wrapped  
**

It was getting closer towards the afternoon when Etna finally returned to the castle. In her hands was a small, gift-wrapped package decorated with the seal of the overlord. She looked somewhat bothered for some reason, as though she had better things to do with her time but couldn't make use of it to her own liking. Behind her trailed a regiment of prinnies, severely weighed down with other purchases that she had made that day.

"Hurry up," she snapped. "The Prince isn't going to be happy when he sees how late you've made us."

"But dood!" one prinny piped up. "You were the one who had to stop to buy all of these clothes and shoes, not to mention that run we made on the bakery. We must have cleaned out the entire building."

The prinnies nearby looked alarmed, then decidedly began edging away from him. That was when the temeritous prinny realized his mistake. Etna had that look on her face--a sweet little grin that said quite clearly that someone was about to die.

"Um...I didn't mean...Dood? Wait! What are you doing with that knife, dood?! Hey, don't aim it at--"

Before he could finish, Etna threw the knife into the offending prinny's forehead with simplistic ease. They all watched in horror as the prinny fell to the ground, striking the cold stone with a sickening thud. Blood oozed from the swiftly-inflicted head wound.

Slowly, Etna turned to the other prinnies, several knives visible in her hand as she smiled at them. "Anyone _else_ want to waste my time?"

"No, Etna-sama!!" they cried in unison.

"Good. Now then...bring those packages into my room, pronto!"

The prinnies charged headlong up the flight of stairs leading into the castle. They were all thrown into mortal terror at being the straggler of the line, and, of course, Etna didn't help matters by fingering her knives and eying certain prinnies who seemed to be having difficulty getting their burden to its destination. Fortunately for them, the demon girl didn't see the need to follow them. They all knew what would happen if any of the packages failed to make it to her room by the time she got back.

Besides, even if she wanted to play drill sergeant a little longer, she couldn't. She was supposed to meet Laharl and give him the package he had sent her into town to get.

"Hey, Prince!" Etna called. "Prince! Where are you?"

After ten minutes of fruitless searching, the red-haired vassal decided that it was a lost cause. _I'll probably have to give it to him later. What a nuisance! _she thought, stomping up the stairs leading up to her room. She had gone out of her way to follow Laharl's orders--something that only happened when he supplied a sufficiently convincing death threat. She had gone all the way to the Rozen-Queen shop in some obscure little village miles away, and now the little hellion wasn't even around to collect the prize. Etna suddenly felt like taking out her aggrivation on someone else.

_Time to check on those prinnies,_ she thought with a malevolent smile on her face.

On her way up to her room, however, Etna found something she hadn't expected at all. Flonne's room happened to be just down the hall from her own, and as she was about to pass the doorway, she found that the door was ajar. Curiousity immediately aroused, Etna peeked inside to see what the fallen angel was doing. But instead of seeing Flonne or even one of the prinnies, Etna found Laharl of all people looking intently at something on the wall. He wore a pensive thought on his face.

"There you are, Prince," she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. Etna pushed open the door, and she was pleased to see Laharl give a violent start. One hand was gripping his Cosmic Blade, which was hidden within the folds of his billowing red cape. The other was slowly being clenched into a fist.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," Laharl growled. "Not unless you're ready to die, Etna!"

Etna ignored this. "Where the hell were you? I was looking everywhere for you!"

"I could ask you the same question," he snapped. "What took you so long? You should have been back at least three hours ago."

"Hey, quit breathing down my neck! It was a pretty rare artifact you wanted me to buy. I had to haggle a little to get it."

"So in other words...you stole it?"

"I prefer to think of it as a unique medium of exchange," Etna replied unconcernedly. "See, in exchange for this," she explained, holding up the package, "I let those pathetic shop-keepers live. Easy."

"So...you stole it?"

"What's it to you, Prince? Surely you're not going to give me the truth and justice lecture..."

Laharl flushed crimson. "Do I look like Flonne to you?!"

"No resemblence whatsoever," she answered without skipping a beat. Her scarlet eyes narrowed in suspicion. "But speaking of Flonne, what are you doing skulking in her room?"

The Overlord simply sniffed and turned away, shooting a half-glance at the wall. Etna followed his gaze and saw nothing of interest. Just a couple of framed pictures of Celestia, some photos of her and Laharl, the poster of the Captain Gordon movie that she hadn't bothered to go see, and a plain-looking calendar. She looked back at Laharl, bemused. He simply shrugged.

"Nothing. I was bored," he said evasively. But he looked back at the wall and frowned. "Did you get exactly what I asked for?"

"What do you take me for?" said Etna, tossing him the package. Laharl caught it, examining the seal closely. "I even had that message engraved for you. Isn't it awesome?"

Laharl had opened the box and peered inside. Lying on a bed of velvet was a necklace. The pendant was in the shape of a blooming lily and made of diamonds and topaz. It glittered brilliantly in the light streaming in from the open window. Taking great care, Laharl lifted the necklace from the box and examined the back. Within seconds, his brow furrowed.

"You screwed up," he said with only the menace of a growl.

"What? No, I didn't!" Etna cried indignantly. "I have the message you wanted written on this piece of paper right here!" Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a scrap of white parchment and began to read. "To Flonne, an odd flower of sorts. From Laharl." Looking up, Etna gave Laharl a strange look. "What did they do? Spell your name wrong or something??"

"It doesn't say _From Laharl_," he told her. "It says _love_."

"Does it matter? It's just one stupid word, Prince."

"Dammit, Etna!" Laharl exclaimed, slamming a fist into the wall. The thumb-tac holding the calendar to the plaster came loose, sending it tumbling to the floor. It landed in a heap at the overlord's feet. "It's bad enough that I have to get something for that stupid Love Freak! If I throw in a word like _love_ in the middle of something like this, I'll never live it down! You know how she gets..."

"Yeah," Etna sighed. "Flonne sure is a hopeless romantic. I still don't see why you had to get her anything at all. It's not her birthday or anything."

"She has today marked on her calendar," he replied. Laharl looked scornfully at the calendar still lying on the floor and kicked it away from him.

Etna stooped to pick it up. "Laharl restored." She looked up at him inquizzatively. "Is she talking about that day you randomly came back from the dead or something?"

"I didn't randomly come back from the dead, you moron! I was a prinny for almost an entire year before I could use my bad-ass overlord powers to change back into my true form..."

"Your bad-ass overlord powers?" _Oh, yeah. He's totally lying. _"I could have sworn that Flonne said something different..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She told me that, that Seraph guy gave you your body back."

Laharl looked miffed. "I could give you a taste of my bad-ass overlord powers if you don't believe me, Etna."

Sensing danger, Etna hastily back-pedaled.

"Of course, you can't really take anything Flonne says seriously. Her and her crazy imagination, huh, Prince? Where is she, anyway?"

"I sent her out of the castle for a while. I couldn't afford to let her see you with that." He averted his gaze for a moment, resting it on a photo of the Seraph hanging on her wall. He glowered scornfully at it. "I wouldn't bother, normally, but she's been particularly annoying lately. _"Laharl, why can't you be more loving and kind, like Seraph Lamington? He's an inspirational leader, and he doesn't even have to threaten his vassals. He pays his troops with hope and understanding." _It makes me sick!" He turned away from the portrait, his crimson eyes filled with wrath. "Anything to get her to shut up about that idiot Seraph."

"What's the matter, Prince? Jealous?"

Laharl turned flaming red. "None of your damn business!! And I'll take that!" he snarled, snatching both the paper and the necklace from out of her hands. Turning on his heel, the overlord stalked out of Flonne's room, slamming the door shut behind him. Etna could hear him raging and cursing all the way down the hall. Faintly, she heard another door slamming farther away, indicating that Laharl had shut himself away in his room. She smirked to herself.

"Well, well, well," she said slowly. "It looks like the Prince has got it pretty bad."

--

Flonne sighed as she stepped into the inn. She had to stop and catch her breath a bit, but almost choked on her own air as she realized how crowded it was in the room. Looking up hopefully, she spotted a waitress cleaning up a table. "Excuse me," she said. "May I have that table when you're finished cleaning it?"

The waitress looked up. "Sorry, 'hon. There's a line." She pointed towards the other end of the building. Flonne turned to look and felt her heart sinking.

"This is going to take forever," she murmured sadly.

"Excuse me, miss," someone spoke up. "Are you in a hurry?"

Flonne turned to face the questioner, and felt herself give an internal start at the sight of the young man. He was something she could only describe as extremely good-looking. His bronze-colored hair was cut short and spiked up to give him a mysterious look. And his grey eyes seemed to be flickering with cunning--though Flonne was willing to mistake it for compassion. Judging by the black-leather armor he was wearing and the intricate sword he was carrying, Flonne guessed that he was some sort of knight--but the man looked far too strange to be from this Netherworld. _Maybe he's foreign,_ Flonne thought.

"If you don't mind, you could join me at my table," he offered, flashing a grin at her. "I have plenty of room, and the person I was meeting here seems to have stood me up."

"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry to here that. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

Flonne smiled. "Well, thank you very much, Mr...Mr...?"

"Vlanaar," he told her. "My name is Vlanaar. And I take it that your name is Flonne?"

The fallen angel was astonished. "How did you know that?"

"Rumor has it that a fallen angel by that name has been living with the Overlord of this Netherworld. And how many fallen angels do you see in these parts?"

"Not many," Flonne conceded. "You certainly are quite the detective."

"It helps when you're in my line of work. But come," he said, suddenly putting his arm through hers. "My table is over here."

Vlanaar began to lead her over to a secluded table towards the opposite side of the tavern. It was nicely decorated, and already a waiter was standing at attention to take their orders. Flonne was impressed.

"You must be somebody pretty important to be able to have your own waiter."

"Now who's playing detective," said Vlanaar, wagging a finger at her. "Why don't you sit down."

Flonne hesitated. After all, she really didn't know this young man very well--for she had had enough dealings in the Netherworld to know that, while everyone is deserving of trust and compassion, it still never hurt to be a little bit cautious. Besides, she still had to bring Laharl his breakfast. "I don't know if I should," she said uncertainly.

"Now, I won't take no for an answer," Vlanaar replied, clapping his hands twice. Promptly, the waiter pulled out a chair for Flonne, beckoning her to sit. Not wanting to be impolite, she obediently took her seat. The insistent young man seemed satisfied and handed her a menu. "Can we start out with a bread basket," he asked the waiter. "We may need some time to decide on our orders."

The waiter gave a stiff bow, turned, and departed for the bread.

"Excellent. Now," said Vlanaar, sounding very business-like all of a sudden, "you're not allergic to anything, are you, Flonne?"

"I...no..." Flonne said, blushing furiously. She was not used to having someone pay her this much attention before. Especially someone as handsome and--she assumed--as rich as Vlanaar. Nervously, she ducked behind her menu, trying to find an entree that, if ordered, would make her seem sophisticated and cultured. The foldiing booklet didn't seem to help much, though; Flonne sensed that from across the table, Vlanaar was watching her very intently. To hide her embarrassment, she took a sip of her water, but fumbled slightly with the glass. Hastily, she dabbed at her face with the napkin, trying to recover from her gaffe. "Um..." she murmured, not quite knowing what to say. "What is it that you do, then, Vlanaar-san?"

"Please, just Vlanaar is fine for now."

"Erm..." she hesitated. "Okay. Vlanaar."

He smiled down at her. "You're adorable, Flonne. There's no need to be shy."

"I'm sorry. It's just that the atmosphere is making me a little nervous, that's all."

"I understand. But going back to your question, I'm...well..." he paused for a moment, thinking very carefully. "I guess I'm what you would call a mercenary."

"Oh?" Flonne looked interested. "So you get paid to fight?"

"Well..." here, he paused again. "You could say that. But mostly I end up doing other things for my clients. My job takes me to all sorts of places, and all sorts of Netherworlds. I'm usually hired to track down lost artifacts, missing people, that sort of thing."

"Oh, wow!" she exclaimed, looking starry-eyed. "You must be a famous hero! I can't believe I never heard of you..."

"I go by many different names, Flonne," he explained. "Vlanaar is just one I use when I'm traveling in this dimension."

"I see..." Flonne still looked confused, but didn't comment on it. Instead, she decided to change the subject a little. "Have you ever been to Celestia?"

Vlanaar looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. "I'm afraid not." His voice, once warm and melodious, had all at once become cool and stiff. Flonne was a bit surprised by the change. She had just begun to feel comfortable in his prescence, but now she felt a little afraid.

"Are you all right?"

"What?" said Vlanaar sharply. "I...oh, right..." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair in embarrassment. "You'll have to forgive me, Flonne. It's just that out of all of the worlds I have been to, Celestia has always been barred to me. And unfortunately, there is no place I wish to see more. Legends have been told and sung about the great kingdom of Heaven for many millenia now...it has always been my dream to enter it, since I was a young child."

"Oh," she said. "I'm really sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Well...as a matter of fact, Flonne, there is..."

--

**A/N: Oops...I seem to have ended the chapter on a cliffie. What will Vlanaar ask of Flonne? And how will Laharl react to this handsome stranger? Will he ever get his breakfast?? You'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out! I hope you all enjoyed this. RxR!!**


	5. The Seed of Doubt

**Disclaimer- I do not own Disgaea. If only...**

**I'd like to thank Mei Fire, Clow Angel, and Catheri for their reviews. Hugs for you! (And look! I figured out how to put that line thingy into the page!). Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up--on top of computer problems, I just couldn't get it to work out the way I wanted. I'm still not happy with the end result, but hopefully it's just me being needlessly nit-picky over small details again. I get like that with my writing. Please enjoy the chapter, and tell me if it sucks (but no flames please!). Thanks!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Four- The Seed of Doubt**

Flonne gazed into Vlanaar eyes, trying to discern their intent. But those grey orbs were carefully blank, despite the fire that seemed to blaze within them. She began to feel uneasy.

"What is it that you need me to do?"

Vlanaar smiled. "You lived in Celestia for your entire life, right?"

"Well..." Flonne began, but then paused. She had been about to reply in the affirmative--after all, she had always been a citizen of Heaven--when out of no where, a wave of doubt slammed into her, hard. She was starting to get the feeling like something had to have come before...something...she couldn't remember.

It was a vague feeling, though. It was as translucent as a dream, unable to be held in her mind's eye for more than a split second--and just when she seemed to have a grasp on it, the notion vanished. It was the feeling like she was forgetting something very, very important.

She realized that she had trailed off pointlessly, and hastily recovered with a shy chuckle. "Of course. What else could there be?"

Vlanaar smirked. This seemed to be exactly what he expected to hear.

"You hesitated. Why?"

"Eh?" Flonne started. "Oh, right...that." She racked her mind for a plausible excuse. "Well, it's just that I've been living here in the Netherworld for a few years now. But I realize now that this wasn't what you meant."

"No," he agreed. "It wasn't." Vlanaar looked immensely pleased, and that made the fallen angel particularly nervous. She felt as though she had let something slip, something she was supposed to have kept hidden. But that was ridiculous because Flonne had nothing to hide. Nothing that she could remember, anyway...

"So what was it like? Growing up in Celestia, I mean..."

Flonne smiled, though she wondered why he had changed the subject.

"Celestia is a warm, peaceful place," she began, feeling for the first time calm and centered. She had always felt better about talking about her home. "There's no war, no fights, no conflict...just training until we reach a higher level of existence."

"What higher existence could there possibly be than that of an angel?"

"Well..." Flonne mused. "I don't know. I don't think I'll ever know, anyway, now that I've fallen."

Vlanaar's grey eyes flickered again. "Does that bother you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But, strange as it may sound...I love my life here in the Netherworld. I love the turmoil and the adventures...just not the fights..." The fallen angel looked up at Vlanaar and noticed that he hardly ever blinked as he stared at her. Flonne wondered whether there was point to all of this conversation; whether Vlanaar was leading her up to something. She wished that his face wasn't so inscrutable. She was starting to think that his eyes were creepy. "But most of all, I love having such wonderful friends here."

"What about your friends in Celestia?"

Flonne frowned.

"I never had the time to make friends..." she lied, but feeling her cheeks burning from the embarrassment. In reality, she had been something of an outcast in Celestia. "It was tough being a trainee," she explained, a little closer to the truth this time. "But at least I had Seraph Lamington to guide me."

"You're friends with the Seraph??"

Flonne began to feel very stupid. "Well, I was more like his vassal before I came to the Netherworld. But we were friendly to each other. And he calls me by my first name--everyone else would just refer to me as a trainee...because that's what I was..." she finished lamely.

"Everyone, Flonne? I'm sure you're exaggerating a little..."

"No," she replied sadly. "I'm not."

"Surely your own parents wouldn't think of you merely as a trainee."

The fallen angel blinked rapidly, trying to recover from that staggering question. "I don't have parents...not anymore. They died when I was a young child."

Vlanaar's face seemed softer, his expression tracing the lines of concern that Flonne had rarely seen in Laharl's face. She couldn't help but make that comparison in her mind.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "How young were you?"

"I don't know...three?" Flonne answered, half-distractedly. She ran a hand through strands of her golden hair and played with them, hoping that this wasn't considered bad etiquette. "Why are you even asking me all of this? Wasn't there something you wanted from me? Isn't that why you asked me to breakfast and..." she trailed off sharply, just stopping herself in time from accusing him of pretending to be interested in her life story.

"And what?"

"Nothing," she blushed. "Oh, look! The bread is here."

Flonne was surprised with herself for being so suspicious. It wasn't like her at all not to give someone the benefit of the doubt--especially since Vlanaar had done absolutely nothing to arouse her caution. By her own philosophy, she should have been completely at ease with the young man, curious as he was about her. She couldn't understand why she was feeling this way. She felt like crawling up a wall.

Vlanaar didn't take his gaze off of Flonne. Instead, he leaned closer to her across the table. The fallen angel held her breath, frozen by his slow, entrancing movement as his face drifted closer and closer to hers. A boiling hot geiser seemed to be erupting in her stomach, her heart was palpitating to its own frantic dance as the inches between them rapidly declined. He was too close, she realized with a start. Vlanaar was nice in his own way, but Flonne didn't want whatever it was he was planning to do.

And then, just as it seemed like he couldn't get any closer, he gently took her hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze.

Fortunately, the waiter gave a suggestive cough, as though to remind them of his presence. He set the bread and butter down on the adjacent table, which was empty, and walked off--far enough to be out of earshot, but close enough to notice if they were ready to give him their orders. Flonne was horrified that he even felt this was necessary. Vlanaar must be a hefty tipper.

"Flonne," he murmured, drawing her attention back to his face. "You're right. There was a reason why I asked you to breakfast. Do you know what it is? Do you know what I needed you to do for me?"

She shook her head slowly, starting to get the feeling that she didn't want to know. This seemed too much for a first encounter, after all.

Vlanaar smiled sadly. "I've been traveling through the Netherworlds for centuries, but I never found a place that made me happy. And Celestia has always been barred to me, a demon..." Faintly, Flonne could discern a line of frustration creasing his forehead. "But then I heard a rumor that the Overlord of this Netherworld, King Laharl, had a fallen angel living with him. I was hoping to travel to his castle to make an audience with you, Flonne."

"Really?"

He nodded. "But then I saw you here, and immediately I knew that you weren't a true demon."

Flonne felt a pang of sadness. "I didn't realize it was that obvious."

"Sorry. I just meant to say that you're more polite than demons are. You didn't even threaten the waitress when you asked for a table--most demons would have done that." Vlanaar smiled warmly at her. "It was sweet of you, Flonne, really. There's no need to be upset."

"But why did you want to see me so badly?" Flonne asked.

"I...I needed to hear about Celestia...I knew you had lived there for your whole life, and I just had to get you to tell me as much as you could." There was a strange glint in Vlanaar's eyes now. It was an obsessive glow. "I may not be able to see it myself, but perhaps if I listen to your experiences, it will be as though I've lived there alongside you, seeing it through your eyes."

Flonne felt relieved. For a horrible moment, there, she started to think that he was going to ask for something else entirely...something indecent. She felt ashamed of herself for thinking that Vlanaar had anything but the best intentions...but she was still surprised by the fervency in his grip. She allowed her gaze to flicker across his face, scrutinizing him.

"Or maybe," she reminded him softly. "Maybe it will only make you long for it even more."

"Maybe," Vlanaar conceded. "But I'm willing to take that chance, Flonne. And look," he added, beckoning towards the table next to them. "The bread's here."

They ate in silence, each regarding the other carefully. Flonne was being very careful not to spill crumbs on her front as she nibbled on her bread. She felt really self-concious around Vlanaar--it was like his eyes were looking inside of her, reading her soul. Why should make her uncomfortable? What was it that she considered to be so invasive about his looks and his questions? But in a strange way--among all the paranoia and the tension she felt around him--Flonne was drawn to him. He was incredibly handsome, and there was something familiar about his good-looks. It made her fidget in every which way possible not knowing quite where to place his face.

But then, it wasn't his face that was so familiar. It was the way he made her feel that she remembered. When had she ever been so curious and scared at the same time?

Without warning, Flonne wasn't Flonne anymore.

* * *

_The child stared in shock at the figure cloaked in blue mist. It looked like a person in its shape and form, but the stranger was entirely hidden in a shadow..._

_No, he was a shadow. As he crept forward, she noticed how two-dimensional he seemed. She was so curious and so afraid that she couldn't move an inch, not even to pick up her stuffed bear. Kozu lay abandoned on the floor, dark glass eyes staring sightlessly up at the creature that stalked closer and closer until it seemed that he towered over them both. _

_She sucked in her breath, her small body going rigid as the shadow prepared to engulf her completely._

* * *

"Flonne?"

The fallen angel jumped. "Yes?" she said in a louder voice than she would have liked.

"Are you all right? Your face went pale all of a sudden."

She didn't answer right away. She buried a trembling hand in her hair, clutching her forehead. "I'm fine," she replied. "I just remembered..."

"What did you remember?"

Flonne shook her head. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

She pushed back her chair and tried to get to her feet. Vlanaar, noticing her actions, also got up. Flonne took a few shakey steps towards the exit before her knees buckled. Hastily, she grabbed onto the table to support herself. Instead of feeling hard, sturdy wood, however, she found herself being held up by her companion. He firmly kept her on her feet, but allowed her to rest her head against his chest as he righted her position. Flonne feebly tried to push him away.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Please, I have to get back. I've been away for too long."

"You're ill."

"No, I'm not. I just got a little light-headed, that's all."

"At least let me take you home," Vlanaar offered. "I feel terrible for not noticing that you weren't feeling well."

Flonne wasn't sure that she wanted him to do that. After all, it was his entire manner that brought on this strange vision...where had she seen that scene before? A horrible sense of deja-vu crept through her veins. She tried to hold herself up, but found that she was getting weaker by the second. "I'm fine," she said again, not sure who she was trying to convince: Vlanaar, or herself.

"I can't let you leave here alone. It's dangerous, especially for someone in your condition. Maybe you should eat something first?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Then sit down while I pay the bill."

"Vlanaar," Flonne mumbled, looking around the room. "People are staring at us..."

"All the more reason for you to sit and rest quietly, my dear," Vlanaar answered swiftly. He leaned down and helped her back into her chair. Flonne felt her skin burning where his hand had brushed up against it as she settled into a comfortable sitting position. This man was too much for her, and she wished she understood why.

It was a very strange day. That was the only thing Flonne was certain about anymore.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Laharl was pacing his room, his cape dancing behind him like a flame. His pointed ears were poised, straining impatiently for any sound that would announce Flonne's arrival back at the castle. But as the seconds ticked by, his temper began to rise. After another ten minutes had passed, the overlord began kicking things out of his way. An old playstation 2 that had been lying in his path had been completely demolished within seconds, and was thrown against the opposite wall. Now it lay in a smoldering heap in the corner, smoke leaking out of the corners.

"Dammit!" he growled. "Where is that Love Freak? She should have been back by now."

It was not in his typical habit to concern himself over his vassals whereabouts--unless of course they were obviously plotting against him. But Flonne was different. She wasn't just a vassal like the prinnies and the other fighters. In fact, Flonne wasn't really much of a servant at all. All she really did was care for the castle garden--and Laharl hadn't even wanted one in the first place. Suddenly, he paused. _What does the Love Freak do for me, anyway?_ he wondered. If she didn't do chores like the others, why was it so unbearable not to have her around?

_Not that I give a damn about her_, he thought furiously. There was no way he would ever allow himself have feelings for an angel; not even one that had been turned into a demon. She was too much of a goody-two-shoes, and her love and justice speeches constantly had him on the verge of a migraine.

Sometimes he would send the fallen angel out on errands to give himself a couple of hours of peace, but somehow, Laharl couldn't bring himself to relax until she was safely back at the castle. Flonne had a notorious habit of stumbling into danger blithely. She was just too damn trusting, and it drove Laharl nuts. Half of the time, he ended up following her on her trips just to make sure that she didn't get herself into trouble.

Some vassals are more trouble than they're worth. Logic told him that immediately. But then, it's not like Flonne could go back to Celestia. She was basically stuck in the Netherworld.

_Good_, he thought to himself. _She's a danger to herself, that Love Freak_. _And the way she dotes over that stupid Seraph...he completely took advantage of her before--used her like a pawn in his diplomatic schemes--and she still practically worships the guy!_

Laharl suddenly felt even more irritated than he had been five minutes ago. "What's taking her so long??"

Almost as if in answer to his outburst, someone knocked rapidly on the door. The Overlord strode over and ripped it open, bearing down on the uninvited guest. Across the threshold, Etna stood there, calmly leaning against a pillar and smiling evilly up at him.

"Hi, Prince."

"You have a hell of a lot of nerve showing your face, Etna."

"Believe me," she said. "I have a good excuse."

"Well, what is it?" he demanded

"Flonne's back."

He immediately perked up, forgetting that he was supposed to be angry at Etna. All that mattered now was that his wait was over.

"Where is she?"

Her smile grew broader. "She's right outside...but man, you just gotta get a look at this, Prince!"

Laharl frowned. "This better not be a waste of my time," he warned her.

"Oh, don't worry," Etna assured him with a dismissive wave of the hand. Her smile was mischievous and amused. "I think you'll find this quite interesting...and well worth the time it'll take to drag your lazy butt to the ramparts."

_Now she's pushing her luck_, he thought. But he shook off his aggrivation. He had more important things to worry about.

"Whatever..." said Laharl, following her out of the door and into the hallway. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

* * *

"Is this where you live, Flonne?"

The fallen angel was nestled tenderly in Vlanaar's arms. After they had paid their bill, he had offered to carry her back to the castle. Despite Flonne's protests, she really wasn't able to walk for more than a couple of minutes at a time. She was really surprised when he scooped her up and started to fly. It wasn't mode of transportation she was used to. In fact, if she hadn't felt so shakey and feeble, she probably would have been having the time of her life. As it was, she felt deeply disturbed by the incident in the restaurant, and just wanted to go to bed and forget about it.

Despite her inhibitions, Flonne managed to peek out from the crook in Vlanaar's arms. Down below, she could faintly make out the comfortably familiar shape of the Overlord's castle. "Yes," she told him. "Right here."

Vlanaar circled the sky, moving lower and lower to the ground with every passing arc. Flonne glanced up at his face, but instead found herself looking at his wings.

Her heart jolted in shock, and she almost toppled over in fright. She let out a petrified scream as she tried to balance herself, not sure which fate she would have preferred: Being in the clutches of the creature from her nightmare, or falling from a height of thousands of feet.

"Easy!" Vlanaar gasped, struggling to keep his grip on the fallen angel. "I'm not going to drop you, you know."

She just couldn't stop staring. His wings weren't the bat-like wings she usually saw on other demons. They didn't seem to be made of anything organic at all--there was no muscle or bone. Only a _dark shadow_ that stretched out of his back that held him in the air. The sight made her blood run cold.

"Y-your wings..."

Vlanaar could only spare a sidelong glance behind him. "Oh, yeah. What about them?"

"They're...they're..." she shook her head silently. After all, how could she explain her vision of the dark shadow in the restaurant?? "I never saw wings like that before. They surprised me."

"Oh," he said, concentrating more on the direction of the wind than on their conversation. "They were always like that. I was born in a different Netherworld, you know."

"Oh...right..." Flonne murmured, embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he smiled. "Hey, I'm going to land on top of the castle, at one of the towers. Is that okay?"

"It's fine. I can get safely through the castle this way."

Vlanaar nodded. He swooped down into a fantastic spiral, causing Flonne to cling to him tightly. She closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately not to get disoriented. Without warning, she felt a jar. And then, she realized that they were no longer in the air. Only daring to open her eyes a crack, she saw that Vlanaar was indeed on solid ground, looking down into her face with a touch of amusement. "You're adorable, Flonne," he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead.

Staring up at him, Flonne could feel a hot flush creeping through her entire body. "I...I..."

Laughing, Vlanaar planted her firmly on the ground. "I suppose you'll be fine from here on in."

Still numb with shock, she nodded her head. "T-thank you..."

"Anytime," he replied. "As a matter of fact," he added, "I'd really like to see you again."

Flonne thought her heart was never going to stop racing. Vaguely, she thought about Laharl--and remembered how he had forgotten his own restoration. With all of the random occurances that had gone on that day, with all the shock of the vision, and the strangeness of meeting Vlanaar, she had just started to forget all of that unpleasant business.

It was as though being around the young man made her into a completely different person.

Now, Flonne found herself being confronted with the issue again, and strangely enough, she found herself getting fed up. What if all this time, Laharl was just using her to get his body back? What if he was just pretending to understand love just to lure her in?? Anger swept through her.

"I'd like that," she said softly, her scarlet eyes blazing with an unknown heat.

"Excellent," said Vlanaar. "Oh," he said sharply, startling them both. "I almost forgot, Flonne."

Turning away, he began to rummage through his bag. Flonne tried not to look too curious as he pushed things out of the way and mumbled under his breath. She wondered what he was looking for.

"Here!" he said, retrieving something from the depths of his pack. "Flonne, I'd like for you to have this."

In his hand was a gleaming brooch--it had a large, black, oval-shaped gem.

"It's onyx," he told her. "I found it on one of my adventures. I think it'll look really great with your golden hair..."

Flonne looked flabber-ghasted. "I can't take this..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Vlanaar replied. He reached down and gently attached it to the front of her red one-piece beneath the frills. "Perfect."

It gleamed eerily in the light from the sun--but Flonne, looking down at her own chest, couldn't see that. She thought it looked beautiful. "Thank you," she breathed.

Vlanaar smiled. "You're more than welcome. If you ever need me, just stroke the brooch and say my name. I'll come," he promised.

"It's magic!"

"Indeed. If it were an ordinary gem, I'd have sold it by now. Normally, I would have kept something like this to myself, but..." he hesitated. "Well...I...I really like you, Flonne."

"I...me too," she murmured.

He squeezed her hand affectionately in his. "I hope to see you again soon."

Spreading his black wings outward, Vlanaar suddenly leapt up into the air and took off. Flonne shielded her face from the wind, watching in astonishment as he soared gracefully over the castle. As he waved to her over his shoulder Flonne felt herself gripping the brooch tightly, her cheeks flushed with delight. He certainly was smooth...and handsome. She couldn't take his eyes off of him as he vanished over the horizon.

She sighed to herself. It had been a good day after all.

"Hello, Flonne."

That voice.

She wheeled around and saw a figure hiding in the shadows. Her heart squirmed in horror, instinctively remembering the vision. But as soon as she saw the blue antennae, she realized that she was in no danger. Nonetheless, she felt a hard stone plummet into the depths of her stomach.

Laharl stepped out of the darkness and into the light. His crimson eyes were filled with anger, and Flonne was filled with dread.

"Did you have a good time?"

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it. I wanted to do so much more with Laharl and Flonne in this chapter, but it was way too long. I had to end it here; I just hope that it was sufficient. Please RxR! **

**Again, thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter!! Chapter Five will be up soon!!**


	6. Darknkess Rising

**Disclaimer- You know the drill.**

**I'm tired, but I'd still like to thank everyone who reviewed! This chapter took a lot out of me.**

* * *

**Chapter Five- Darkness Rising**

Laharl pretended to be annoyed with Etna for dragging him all the way up to the top of the castle. But deep down, he was anxious to give Flonne her necklace so he could go on with his life. He hadn't expected something so simple as a gift to cause him so much grief. He seriously pondered hurling the thing off of the castle wall and into the desert surrounding them--but it had cost so much money...

Wait a minute!

"Etna," he said evenly. "Remember all of that cash I gave you to buy Flonne's necklace."

The demoness simply rolled her eyes. "What about it."

"Didn't you say that you practically stole the damn thing out of the shop?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then, where the hell is the change?"

"Those are the prinnies' wages," she replied. "Did you really think that those morons would go all of that way for nothing? Not even a prinny is that stupid, Prince."

"Auggh, dammit!" he swore. "Do _you_ really think that _I'm_ dumb enough to believe that you spent all that money on those prinnies? I heard the commotion they made in getting _your_ purchases up the stairs."

"So what do you want me to do? The money's already spent."

"You're right. But it's coming out of your paycheck."

Etna looked flabberghasted. "You can't do that!!"

"Watch me." Laharl looked wearily around at their surroundings. He sniffed in boredom. "What was it that you dragged me up here to see, anyway? All I see is five minutes of my life wasted in climbing stairs."

Etna, who was still smarting over her lost wages, simply retorted, "You'll see soon enough. Idiot."

_Serves him right, _she thought to himself. _Just wait until he sees who Flonne was hanging out with...the Prince could stand to squirm a little. Revenge is so sweet!_

Looking up, she easily spotted the faint pinprick in the distance that had been inching closer for the past couple of minutes. To be sure, Etna pulled out a pair of binoculars that she had bought that afternoon and put them to her eyes. Laharl only saw her looking out towards the desert, the malicious little smile creeping onto her face. He felt slightly uneasy--after all, a day wasn't complete when one of his own vassals failed to try to assassinate him. But Etna hadn't attempted it in years.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Etna turned to him and said, "There's no need to look at me like that. You can take a look yourself if you want." She handed him the binoculars.

Laharl didn't take his eyes off of Etna, still suspicious. "You stand in front of me. I'm not having you push me over the edge while I'm preoccupied."

"Oh, big deal. It's not like you can't fly, Prince."

He didn't reply. He had already taken a look through the binoculars. Etna watched in satisfaction as Laharl's brow slowly furrowed in concentration. "What the hell??" he muttered. "What is that? An intruder?"

"Not sure," she replied smugly. "Maybe you should ask Flonne."

"Flonne--?"

Laharl froze. He had just noticed the fallen angel tucked neatly in the approaching demon's arms. Disbelief kept him rooted to the spot, his crimson eyes following their graceful arcs in the sky as they circled the castle. He saw Flonne falter once, and noticed with distaste how the stranger hastened to protect her from a nasty fall. Laharl felt his heart skip a beat as she shot him a grateful look. She seemed flustered and shy.

"I think Flonne made a new friend, Prince."

"...Son of a..." he murmured, trailing off suggestively. Unconsciously, he gripped the hilt of his Cosmic Blade with a sudden vengeance. "Etna, who the hell is that guy?"

"Beats me. He's kinda cute, though."

"You have a weird taste in guys, then," Laharl snapped. Secretly, he was freaking out inside. He couldn't explain it even if you asked him. All he knew is that he hated this stranger almost as deeply as he hated the Seraph of Celestia, and that Flonne was going around fraternizing with a new enemy. Oh, yeah--there was no doubt that Laharl saw him as an enemy now.

_But he's no threat,_ he thought to himself. _Just some pretty-boy, like Mid-Boss. The idiot probably thinks he can sweep one of my vassals off her feet just so he can get my throne. Fat chance of that happening._

But just in case...

"Etna," he said. "Get behind there," he said, pointing to the shadow of one of the rivets in the castle. "I want to hear exactly what this jerk is planning."

"Whatever, Prince."

Together, they hid in the shadows, watching as the strange demon touched down in front of them. Despite the distance, Laharl could plainly see the amazement in Flonne's eyes and felt a wave of venom.

"You're adorable, Flonne," Laharl heard him say. The mystery man looked into her innocent face as though she were the most precious thing in the world--it made the Overlord feel faintly sick to his stomach, though he attributed the symptom to the sight of so much sappiness and love. Then, as though the whole thing wasn't bad enough as it was, the stranger leaned down and kissed Flonne on the forehead.

Heat flared through him, and for a moment, Laharl had completely lost his mind. He heard Etna gasp beside him, he felt her hands tightly gripping his shoulders, trying to restrain him. "Not yet, Prince!" she whispered, desperate to keep him from revealing their presence. "I want to see the rest of this."

"Let go of me," he hissed at her. "Dammit, let me go!"

"Will you shut up!" she breathed. "You're going to give us away!!"

Breathing heavily, Laharl shot her a hateful look. "That tramp..." he murmured. "Stupid, love freak..." He glared at the couple standing before them, feeling like he'd like nothing more than to rip the demon limb from limb.

To Etna's annoyance, Laharl's outburst had made her miss what Flonne had said to the handsome stranger. Fortunately, they both had calmed down just in time to hear him say to her, "I'd really like to see you again."

"I'd like that," Flonne said quietly in agreement. Her cheeks were a bright red to match her shining eyes.

"Excellent," he said. "Oh, I almost forgot, Flonne."

The demon turned away from them, which was a good thing because Laharl looked like he was about to have a coronary right then and there. His crimson eyes were wide and angry; hell, he looked down-right murderous. Etna was glad that he wasn't mad at _her_, but still regretted that she hadn't opted to find a separate hiding place. She started to get a little nervous.

"Here!" the man said, retrieving something from the depths of his pack. "Flonne, I'd like for you to have this."

Neither of them could see what it was, but it sparkled in the light, and Etna instantly thought of money. "Wow," she said quietly. "Hey, Prince...wouldn't it be crazy if Flonne turned out to be a hooker or something?"

Laharl didn't seem to think it was very funny. "Just like a sleezy little love freak like her."

There was a dull ache inside of him, and the Overlord didn't understand what it was. It made him as mad as hell, though. And it reminded him that he still hadn't eaten breakfast yet...though that didn't seem to matter to him much, now. All that existed was Flonne; Flonne and that random love-interest guy that he despised so much. Laharl wanted to smash the image into a thousand pieces and bury the shards. But he knew that it would hurt too much to hold such sharp things in his hands. He would bleed from mere contact.

"Normally, I would have kept something like this to myself," the man continued. "But...well...I...I really like you, Flonne."

"I...me too," she murmured.

_She, what?!_

"I hope to see you again soon."

_Like hell you will, _Laharl thought bitterly. _Not if I have anything to say about it._

He couldn't have been more pleased than to see the offending stranger spreading his black wings outward and flying away. The Overlord watched furiously as Flonne shielded her face from the wind, gazing wistfully out into the distance at the receding figure of her new boyfriend. Her cheeks flushed with delight, and she couldn't hold back the content sigh that escaped her lips. She looked purely infatuated with the demon.

That was the last straw. He grabbed his sword and stalked out into the light, quietly approaching her from behind. He paused, considering striking her down with the Cosmic Blade without her being the wiser. But no. He wanted her to see who it was who struck the blow. He wanted to see penitence in her face, wanted to hear her beg for mercy for betraying him like this. Trying to steady his temper, at least for now, Laharl let himself break the silence.

"Hello, Flonne."

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Celestia.._

"Seraph! We've got a problem!"

The messenger pushed open the ornate set of doors leading into Seraph Lamington's office. He found the ruler of Celestia calmly drinking a cup of tea, looking out towards the field of pristine white lilies that Flonne had loved so dearly. Upon the sudden entrance of the visitor, he looked up and smiled tranquilly into the agitated face of the messenger. "What seems to be the trouble, Cebes?"

"Did you sense that just now?"

Lamington nodded. "That sudden throb of dark energy. Yes, I felt it quite poignantly. Is the pool still clear?"

Cebes shook his head, surprised that the Seraph already seemed to know so much. He also couldn't believe that anyone could be so calm in the face of such a calamity. After all, something like this hasn't happened in many millenia. Such foreboding events...

"It's really hazy; I can barely make anything out. It's like some source of evil has polluted the sacred waters."

"I see..." Lamington frowned. "Well, it seems as if my old friend is on the move again."

"Your...what?"

"Oh, nothing. Cebes, can I ask you to keep an eye on Flonne until I say otherwise? I'm a bit concerned for her safety at the moment..."

"You believe she is in danger?"

"Not now, no," Lamington replied. "I know for certain that she is safe as long as she is in King Laharl's presence. But I need to know if she leaves the castle for any reason...especially if she's in the company of someone other than the Overlord or Miss Etna. Do you understand?"

Not really, but Cebes was able to follow orders. "Your wish is my command, Lamington-sama."

"Thank you. You are dismissed."

The angel messenger saluted to the Seraph, turned heel, and made for the door as quickly as possible. Lamington watched placidly as the it quietly snapped shut behind him. He put his cup of tea down on his desk and turned back towards the lilies. His gaze drifted to the sky and saw ominous clouds covering the horizon like a mass of dark grey pillows. He sighed to himself.

"I didn't think you would emerge for another couple of centuries at least," he said to himself. "But you've always had a tendency to surprise...Vlanaar..."

He looked back at the lilies again, watching as their tiny bodies swayed dismally in the wind that had started to pick up.

"Poor Flonne," he murmured. "It will come to pass quite soon...sooner than I would have liked..." He shook his head sadly. "One day, you'll understand. I just hope you can forgive me...one day..."

One of the flowers crumpled beneath the unyeilding breath of wind, its petals scattering towards the rapidly darkening abyss that was the sky.

* * *

Flonne could barely suppress her shock at seeing Laharl. This seemed to be what he expected, though. A grim smile crept up on his face, though it was clear that he wasn't amused at all. Without knowing why, the fallen angel became afraid.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

His eyes were smoldering.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated in a deadly whisper.

Flonne averted her gaze, her heart kicking up its nervous dance inside of her. She realized now that her impulsive question had been a mistake.

"Maybe," said Laharl slowly, "I should ask you where the hell you were all this time..."

"I went to get your...your..." Flonne trailed off, looking down at her empty hands. "I didn't get your food," she murmured in amazement.

"I noticed."

His words stung like a slap in the face. Flonne had never heard Laharl so quiet before. Usually, when he got angry, you could hear him a mile away, screaming at the offender at the top of his lungs. But instead of yelling, he was speaking in that soft, lethal voice. It was so unlike him. What on earth had happened to make him look so furious, yet so calm, so deadly and sure in his stance? And why was he holding his sword so tightly in his hand?

Surely he wasn't going to hurt her...was he?

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "Laharl-san, I didn't mean to forget. I...I got distracted, and I--"

"I bet you got distracted," he snapped. "Who was that guy?"

Flonne flinched. His tone was as sharp as steel and as cold as ice. She opened her mouth hopelessly, but then closed it, staring in bewilderment into his face. His anger was so unexpected. She didn't even understand what was happening. "Laharl-san?"

"Your stupid boyfriend!" he snarled, clearly too impatient to tolerate her confusion. "What's his name?"

"My...boyfriend??"

"Yeah. Mr. Long, Tall, and Handsome. Tell me who he was, or I swear to everything, Flonne, that I'll...I'll..." He couldn't even articulate his threat, he was so enraged. All Laharl could do was raise his sword threateningly, causing Flonne to start backwards. She landed hard on the ground, losing her breath for a moment; but before she could recollect her senses, she found herself staring into the point of Laharl's blade.

That got her attention, all right.

"He's not my boyfriend, Laharl!" she squeaked. "His name is Vlanaar, and I only just met him today!!

"A likely story..." Laharl sneered. Slowly, he circled the fallen angel, the tip of his sword dangling just below her chin. He kept her face lifted up to face his, watching her closely for any changes in expression. He was not disappoint. Soon he could see tears filling her ruby eyes. He expected this to make him feel better, to see her so frightened, so sorry for ever having met this Vlanaar character. But to his mild surprise, the sight of her terror was unbearable to him. He averted his gaze, and found himself staring down at the black brooch pinned to her chest.

"What's this?" he asked, moving his sword out of the way to get a closer look. Flonne followed his gaze and blushed, and moved to hide it from view. But Laharl would have none of that. With a swift movement, he sliced the brooch away from the fabric, watching the fallen angel's stunned reaction as it clattered to the floor. Before she could save it, he plucked it up from the ground, examining it with loathing. "A gift from your boyfriend? How pathetic!"

"I told you," Flonne protested. "He's not my--"

"Save it." He frowned to himself as he felt a strange energy nestled deep inside the black gem of the brooch. "Well, that's strange...this looks like a powerful artifact..."

Flonne couldn't take it anymore. Completely disregarding the sword, which had slacked during the intensity of Laharl's inspection of the brooch, she rose to her feet and snatched it out of his hands. Embarrassed, she craddled it in her arms. "It's a magic brooch..."

"Oh, really?" Laharl said, resting his sword over his shoulder and planting a hand on his hip. He looked skeptical. "And what's it supposed to do, anyway? Do a cart-wheel?"

"I...I don't know," she lied, feeling her cheeks turning red. "But it's mine, Laharl! I won't let you have it!"

Anger throbbed again. "You'll do whatever the hell I tell you to do, Love Freak! And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you going around like a damn whore right under my nose!!"

Flonne didn't look scared anymore. Now she looked outraged. "Like a what?!"

"You heard me!"

From the sidelines, Etna watched the two square off, munching on a bucket of pop-corn. Her red eyes were sparkling in amusement as she watched Laharl getting more and more worked up--man, Flonne was just letting him swell up like that! She had to be either very brave, or very foolish. But then, she was an angel after all--albeit, a fallen one.

"You can't tell me what to do, Laharl!" she declared hotly. "I'm not your servant, you know! Not if I don't want to be!"

"You're right," he replied, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. "You're not my servant. You're my prisoner. Now get inside the castle before I murder you, you little--" he cut himself off, not having a name nearly foul enough to call her. In disgust, he hurled her towards the door, not even sparing her another glance.

He heard her land on the floor, and felt a pang of regret. But Laharl wasn't about to apologize. He stood there resolutely, focusing his gaze on the mountain range where Vlanaar had vanished from sight, wishing that he had cut him down before he could escape. But his ears were still able to pick up the angry noises Flonne was making--tiny little sobs that she tried to force back. This made him feel even worse.

"I hate you," she spat.

Laharl gave a start. Turning around, he saw her glaring at him with tears in her eyes. Never before had he seen such an expression on her face. It was...demonic...

Before he could stop her, Flonne picked herself up off the floor and disappeared through the set of doors leading inside the castle. His hand hung lifelessly in the air like a dead tree branch. Slowly, he let it drop, forcing the haughty scowl back on his face. "Stupid love freak," he muttered, sheathing his sword and turning away. "Why should I care?"

"Because you've totally fallen for her," Etna replied. "Admit it, Prince. It's obvious!"

"Etna," he said slowly. "Get out."

She opened her mouth to reply, but saw the expression on Laharl's face. It made her think twice.

"Whatever," she said, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. "You're hopeless, you know that?"

"I said, get out!!" he snarled, brandishing his sword at her. But he needn't have bothered. Etna was already leaving the battlements, her cunning tail dancing behind her as she retired towards her bed room. The door snapped shut.

Laharl let his sword drop again, feeling hollow. Obstinately, his stomach began to growl from a lack of nourishment. Once again, he ignored it. He didn't feel like eating anything. Instead, he looked solemnly out towards the desert again, and faintly mumbled, "Stupid, Flonne."

* * *

**A/N: Things certainly don't look good for Laharl and Flonne. Will they be able to patch things up? Or will the Overlord's pride get in the way? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I worked my butt off trying to make this work out realistically. It was a pain in the butt trying to keep Laharl in character, but I digress. More importantly, please review!!**


	7. Pendulum of the Wavering Heart

**Disclaimer- I'm going to cry. Seriously, how many times do I have to tell you people that I don't own Disgaea and I probably never will?? WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME??**

**Oh...the next chapter. Duh.**

* * *

**Chapter Six- Pendulum of the Wavering Heart**

Flonne had trouble finding her way back to her room. Her vision kept blurring, and her head was ringing with the words she had carelessly thrown at Laharl.

_"I hate you!"_

She choked back a wave of nausea as she descended a flight of stairs, leaning against the wall for support. After all of her dizzy attacks today, her altercation with Laharl certainly hadn't helped. All she could do was will herself to keep standing, knowing all too well that it wouldn't be good for someone to find her sprawled in the hallway. She didn't want Laharl to know that she was getting sick.

After all, it would just be another thing that was all her fault.

Flonne didn't know what was happening to her. She was the love freak; the advocate of justice. For as long as she could remember, Flonne had done everything possible to prevent hate from entering her heart. She refused to let those three wicked words leave her lips; not even when the other angels tormented her, called her names, condemned her to her life as an outcast just because she expressed sympathy for the demon race. She may have only been a trainee, but she was developing a sense of compassion that rivaled some of the most powerful people in Celestia--without even realizing it.

Never had she felt such an evil emotion.

Never had she ever told someone that she despised them...not even in jest.

So why did she say such a horrible thing? And to Laharl, of all people?

She shivered, drawing closer to the wall. If she could, Flonne would have curled up inside herself and hid until things began to make sense again. She was scared and agitated, and wanted desperately to sleep so that in the morning, she could pretend that all of this had been a bad dream. Nothing more than an illusion...

If only.

Flonne had never seen Laharl so angry since that time they all went to the Red Moon, and she had tried to convince the him to treat his prinny servants with love and kindness. But that was understandable; without meaning to, she had reminded him of his lost mother, who he was forced to watch leave him a second time as her soul left her prinny body and floated to the Great Beyond. By then, she realized that he had never gotten over his grief--and she hoped that his letting the prinnies pass on was a sign that he was finally letting go.

She couldn't understand why he was doing this. What had she done to make him so mad? Somehow, she just couldn't stomach the notion that all of this erupted over a missed meal.

Staggering a few feet, Flonne finally found herself at her bed-room door. Her trembling hands grasped the handle and pushed it open with all of her weight. As the door gave way, she pitched forwards, landing softly on the fluffy white carpet. She turned her face to the side so she could breathe, nudged the door closed with her foot, and lay there on the floor; staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her gaze drifted to the calendar, her attention focused on the tiny box dedicated to today.

And then, without knowing why, Flonne suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to tear that calendar off the wall, to tear it into tiny pieces, to rip and shred until there was nothing left. Shuddering, she curled herself into a ball and choked back a involuntary sob. The fallen angel could have easily pretended that the tears that threatened to fall were out of anger, or out of disappointment, or both. But she knew that there was no point in lying to herself anymore. She was grieving for the part of herself that she couldn't afford to lose, that she was afraid she might have lost already; her unblemished soul.

Hatred was a sin. And despite the fact that she now inhabited a demon body, Flonne had had her sins wiped away by Laharl's sacrifice. However, if she happened to sin again...

Flonne didn't want to think about what would happen then. She could only hope and pray that it didn't. She loved her life in the Netherworld too much to have to give it up a second time.

_Relax,_ she thought to herself, willing herself to take deep breaths. The fallen angel knew that she was only a few steps away from a panic attack--and that wouldn't help anyone, especially herself. No, what she needed to do was to calm down and think things through. First, she would have to prioritize: which of her problems was more urgent? Her physical condition? The strange visions? Or Laharl?

_Laharl_, she decided with a sigh. It may not have been the most practical option, but it was one that would give Flonne a greater peace of mind. As long as Laharl didn't hate her, she knew she could endure any other obstacles life threw at her. It was the little unconscious acts of kindness the Overlord exhibited that made her look forward to the next day. It kept her world alive.

Worry stabbed through her. What if she couldn't make things right again? What if he never spoke to her again? Or worse, what if he sent her away??

Her grip on the onyx brooch tightened painfully. _Relax!_ she reminded herself. Slowly, she shifted her position so that she was lying on her side, staring at the clock on her wall rather than other emotionally provocative things; she found the rhythmic ticking of the second hand to be far more soothing than the photographs of her friends and other sentimental trinkets--those things only reminded her against her will of what she had to lose. But the ticking was a like a heart-beat...a lullaby.

Minutes passed and Flonne was beginning to really feel the fatique in her muscles. Her eyelids drooped. _That's right_, she thought to herself. _Relax...just relax..._

She wanted to let go of the brooch--the way that the grooves of the metal were pressing into her hand was starting to get to her. As soon as she thought of it, her thoughts drifted back to Vlanaar. His face became vibrant in her mind.

_I wonder what he's doing right now?_

Her thumb unconsciously traced circles on the large black gem. Faintly, she murmured his name, "Vlanaar..." and wondered what on earth she was going to do about him. After all, she had only just met him today; and her friendship with Laharl meant much more to her than their brief flirtations that morning. But then, she didn't want to hurt his feelings either.

The brooch was beginning to feel really warm in her palm. It was giving off its own heat--and as she continued to watch the second hand make another circuit around the face of the clock, Flonne could have sworn that it was throbbing in time with the ticking. But that had to have been her imagination.

Inexplicably, her eyes rolled shut. It was as though a foreign weight tenderly pressed down on her lids, crept through her slender frame so that she couldn't help but drift into a deep, deep slumber. Her hand let go of the brooch.

It rolled a couple of inches away as if pulled by a magnet, moving in circles until it finally came to rest against the cross symbol on her abdomen. Then, inexplicably, it glowed a frightening shade of blue.

Soon, the only thing that Flonne could see in her mind's eye was a massive wave of blue...a blue shadow...in the hallway...

* * *

_The child gaped in horror as the shadow stood over her. Blue mist surrounded its lean form like a cloak, masking almost all of its details; that is, all except for the part of it that resembled a head. That was the part of the apparition that she focused on, probably because it was the only thing about it that the child could make sense of._

_It was how she learned that the darkness had a face..._

_With a tight-lipped grimace, the ghost bestowed a grim smile on her. It was enough to make the little girl start back in horror. Without meaning to, she stumbled backwards into the door and fell through into the next room. _

_She felt like she was tumbling in slow motion. As she collided with the floor, she felt the wind knocked out of her, and her eyes squeezed themselves shut in her desperation to re-orient herself. As she opened them again, however, she found that the phantom in the hallway had disappeared._

_And that was when the silence gripped her._

_"Well, look what we got here..." said a gruff voice. She felt rough hands seize her suddenly and drag her to her feet. This time, the child was looking into the hardened face of a seasoned killer--a demon with a lust for blood and money gleaming in his red eyes._

_"Looks like the vermin we killed had a brat hiding in the back rooms..."_

_She gasped as the demon dropped her back onto the floor. Frantically, she began to scuttle backwards towards the wall, when another figure approached her. Swiftly, he drew his knife and stabbed it into her frilled nightgown, pinning her to the ground. She yelped in fear, trembling as the other demon knelt down to face her, playing with the knife in his hands._

_"Where do you think you're going, sweet-heart?"_

_The child quailed under his malevolent gaze, then swallowed. She shook her head feebly from side to side._

_"No? You're not going anywhere?" he replied, smiling nastily at her. She winced at the sight of rows of discordantly alligned yellow teeth. "Well, at least your parents taught ye some manners before we killed them. Lying is a sin, you know..." he cut himself off, chuckling darkly._

_"And you sure as hell aren't going anywhere," his companion finished.  
_

_The child stared, not comprehending. "Where's momma?" she whimpered. "I want my mom!"_

_"Aw, did you hear that, Ikus? She wants her mother."_

_The man's jeering tone did nothing to comfort her. The little girl whimpered again and began to cry. _

_"Shut up!" the first demon snarled, grabbing a fistful of her golden hair and pulling on it, hard. The girl let out a piercing wail before she hastily sucked in her breath, forcing herself to remain silent. Tears quietly streamed down her cheeks._

_This seemed to satisfy them. __"You want your mother, kid?" one of them asked.  
_

_She hesitated, looking from one face to another. She saw them exchange a glance, saw them smile wickedly._

_"Take a look over there," he pointed towards a distant corner, where a shapely mass was lying in a heap. She followed the direction of his gaze, squinting in the darkness. There was a dark reddish-brown stain creeping across the wooden planks underneath the huddled object. _

_Then she noticed that the thing had hair just like hers._

_"Momma?"_

* * *

Flonne groaned, tossing and turning in her nightmare. From behind her, a dark shadow crept into the room. Swiftly, it coiled around her body in a wave of eerie blue mist. But it was too much like a shadow.

Her mouth hung open, mouthing wordlessly. It was as though she were calling out to someone who wasn't really there. Her feverish brow was beading with nervous sweat, gleaming like the top of a peak in the light. Murmuring something unintelligible, Flonne turned over onto her side, her face masked in cascading strands of golden blonde hair. Quietly, the darkness crawled down her throat.

Suddenly, her ruby eyes snapped open. Her hands flew to her neck and clutched at it, struggling with an unseen foe. Flonne writhed in pain, her teeth grinding in an attempt to keep herself from screaming--not sure if she wanted to be saved or not. Her fingers grasped at nothing. Her hands clawed away at the air.

After a long time, Flonne lay there on the floor, breathing heavily from the over-exertion. But then, her breaths became gasps--and from there, an unquenchable wave of laughter bubbled in her throat. It was not her own voice...

* * *

Etna was restless.

It was completely unfair. Under normal circumstances, she knew that she would be extremely content with her lot. In her book today had been a pretty good day, all things considered. She had successfully duped Laharl into giving her a mountain of cash. And, when he temporarily caught her off guard by deducting it all out of her pay-check, she had made a come-back by exploiting his greatest weakness. No, it wasn't his allergy to positive thinking; nor was it his aversion towards busty women. No, Laharl's greatest weakness was Flonne; a lovable, completely unsuspecting fallen angel. Even better that he didn't admit it to himself; it provided more opportunities to glimse his exposed Achilles Heel.

The fact that Laharl had thrown that huge fit capitalized her success. So why didn't she feel like gloating?

The loss of a hefty part of her income didn't faze her in the least. Etna could easily have gotten her hands on some more cash if the need was provided. No, that wasn't what was bothering her at all.

She just couldn't forget the look on Flonne's face.

"This is stupid," Etna muttered to herself, flopping down on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. And it certainly was. What did it matter that Flonne was so upset if it meant completely uprooting the Prince's massive ego? She was just another innocent victim, and Etna had a fair share of those without any regrets. So why?

Against her will, the demon girl brought herself to remember one of Flonne's more aggrivating speeches. It was about the many virtues of friendship...

* * *

_It was an important day in the Overlord's castle--or at least, Laharl thought so. He had just made another royal decree, which meant that Etna was stuck posting notices on all of the walls, reminding the rest of his vassals to attend his big speech...or else. She rolled her eyes as she slapped another flier against the cold stone, then hastily stuck a piece of scotch tape against it, pinning it to the wall. This was really tedious work; surely there were better things for her to do..._

_Etna looked around, searching for a loophole in her duties--and sure enough, she spotted Flonne down the hallway, carrying a box filled with sound equiptment._

_"Hey, Flonne! Come help me with this!"_

_The fallen angel looked up from her burden, giving the demon girl an inquizzative smile. Without hesitation, without question, she approached Etna, placing the box on the floor at their feet. Then, dusting off her hands, she turned back to her. "Are you putting up posters?"_

_"Yeah," said Etna with a sigh. "It's really bothersome."_

_"Well," Flonne replied with a smile, "I can take care of the rest of them if you can bring the sound equiptment to the prinnies downstairs. It's the only thing I have to do today, but I don't mind taking care of a few extra chores."_

_"Great, see you later!" As the demon girl bent down to pick up the box, she had a smug expression on her face. It had been too easy; Flonne was so naive, she'd do all of her work for her if Etna had asked her. She was chortling to herself when suddenly, she felt her hand on her shoulder._

_Etna looked up into Flonne's face, which was filled with warmth and affection._

_"That's what friends are for, right, Etna-san?"_

_"Friends?"_

_Her smile faltered slightly. "Yes. Friendship. It's a wonderful thing that ties two or more people together--and it never fades. Even after one of them has died or passed on, the love and friendship shared between them continues to thrive. You can't erase those happy memories..."_

_"Yeah...okay, sure," said Etna doubtfully. The look on Flonne's face was really weirding her out--it was like she really believed, heart and soul, that they were friends. It gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach to think that she was dropping all of her work on the fallen angel's shoulders. She was feeling guilty for taking advantage of Flonne's helpful disposition._

_Flonne smiled at Etna, blithely unaware of her inner conflict. "I should be finished in an hour or so. Maybe afterwards we can get some ramen. How about it?"_

_Etna frowned. She was really going to regret this tomorrow._

_"You know," she said slowly. "The job will go faster with two pairs of hands." Reluctantly, she took half of the stack out of her hands. Flonne looked surprised._

_"But Etna..."_

_"What? Isn't that what friends are for? Now shut up and pass me the tape."_

A strange, discordant sound keened in the distance. Etna's thoughts were scattered immediately at its not-so-dulcet tones, which sounded like a horrible mixture of sobbing and laughter. And all at once, the demon girl realized that it was coming from Flonne's room.

Her heart skipped a beat as a loud ripping noise reached her ears. Then, something like the shattering of glass.

"Flonne!"

Etna pulled out her spear and plunged down the hallway at break-neck speed. It took too long to reach the door, too long to rip it off its hinges and force a way inside. But when she finally created a means of entry for herself, she found herself rooted to the spot. Her red eyes grew wide, and a breath hitched in her throat in sheer shock. She had been expecting an enemy of some sort; perhaps an invading demon or a monster that had broken into the wall.

"What...is this...?"

The entire room was destroyed. Curtains hung in tatters on their hooks, the bed-spread was in shreds, and the mattress itself had been ripped open. Etna could see the bed-springs gaping out of the wound. The fluffy pink pillows had also been attacked, and now a mass of white feathers littered the floor, hodge-podge among the shards of broken glass from the window that had been smashed. Etna looked towards Flonne's dresser and saw a number of broken glass bottles thrown onto the floor, their contents sinking deep into the carpet and staining it. The mirror had a massive hole blown into it, and sticking out of it looked notoriously like a certain magical staff that Flonne used...

And speaking of Flonne.

The fallen angel was nestled in the heart of all this destruction. Her body was bent over an ornate picture frame, and was shaking in huge, convulsive jerks as she sobbed...or was that laughter escaping her lips. Either way, it looked as though every expulsion of sound caused her great pain. It was taking her a massive effort just to keep breathing. She was clutching the portrait as though it were her last tie to the world--as though if she didn't hold onto it for her life, she would fall into the sky and vanish. Etna took a few hesitant steps forward, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Flonne..."

Flonne's laughter merely rose an octave, and the picture frame fell from her trembling hands as she clutched at her sides, hugging herself tightly and curling up in a ball. The painting landed face-up, and Etna realized that it was a picture of Laharl. His expression was gloating, leering up at her from its two-dimensional prison.

The fallen angel gasped, choked and sobbed--but one of her hands left her ribs and reached for a shard of broken glass on the floor. With trembling hands, she stabbed the fragment through the canvas, piercing through the Overlord's image and destroying that hateful smile. The laughter was growing louder and louder, and Flonne had to bite down on her lips to keep from screaming. But through gritted teeth she whispered, "Daisuki...daisuki...daisuki..." with every stab she made in the picture. Etna found this to be very disturbing.

It was as though Flonne were being possessed.

Etna ran forward knelt down beside Flonne, grasping her by her shoulders. "Flonne, stop it! Look at me!"

The fallen angel turned and pushed her away, lashing out with the shard. But Etna caught her wrists in a vice-like grip and held her still.

"Wake up!!" she screamed. This brought about no response except a short snarl from Flonne. Etna released her free hand and slapped the fallen angel across the face. Her head snapped to the side and hung out of sight. A shudder crept through her entire body. Etna sensed her relinquishing the glass and let her hand fall to the floor. "Snap out of it, Flonne!" she urged softly. "Wake up!"

At the sound of her name, Flonne's blood-shot eyes slid open. "Etna-san?" she croaked.

The demon girl slumped over in relief. "I'm right here, you idiot."

Slowly, she lifted up her head and met Etna's fearful gaze with a tired, defeated expression. Tears had left muddy tracks down her pale cheeks. "Where am I?" she breathed. "What happened?"

"That's a good question," Etna sighed in response. "I was hoping you could tell me that."

Flonne looked blearily around her. "I don't know," she said quietly. Her voice was hoarse from all of the laughing. "I don't remember...too well...everything's fuzzy in my mind...and my throat hurts..."

"Well, you were laughing a lot...or sobbing...something," the demon girl replied with a nervous shrug.

Flonne's brow furrowed as she struggled to remember. "I...was trying to calm down. I was upset...angry..."

"At Laharl?" Etna asked, glancing at the ruined portrait.

"No," she said, frowning. "I was scared that I'd ruined everything between us...I still am...but mostly I'm angry at myself...I shouldn't have said such horrible things before." She looked up at Etna in amazement. "I've never said those kind of things before."

"Well, you never tore up an entire room before either, and there's a first time for everything."

"I guess..." Flonne murmured, slumping over behind a punctured lamp-shade. Etna lifted it up and tossed it away, looking her square in the face.

"You know, all of this destruction and the outbursts sound like classic symptoms of a nervous breakdown."

"I'm too tired to even ask how I'm supposed to fix it," she replied, stretching an arm across her eyes to shield them from the light.

"Then it's a good thing for you that it's not that complicated to fix. You just need a break...a day off."

Etna rose to her feet and walked over to Flonne. She bent over and grabbed her arms, dragging the fallen angel out of her fetal position and onto her feet. "C'mon," she grunted as she felt her weight against her. "Stand up, will you? You're staying in my room tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you really want to sleep in this mess? Now hurry up. I want to start your treatment as soon as possible."

Flonne looked into her face, bemused. "Treatment?" she repeated, questioningly. Her confusion brought a fresh smirk onto Etna's lips. This was going to be more fun than the time she gave the fallen angel a make-over. It was too bad that Flonne wasn't a fan of black leather--the demon girl thought that she looked good in it.

Apparently Flonne also remembered the make-over; she looked extremely apprehensive.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Now, now," said Etna, wagging a finger at her. "You just keep quiet and listen to Dr. Etna. We'll cure your broken heart in no time. Just leave everything to me."

"I...I guess it's all right," Flonne answered, though she really didn't have much choice in the matter. The demon girl was already dragging her to the door. However, their progress halted when her foot collided against a solid object on the floor. It skittered a few feet away and came to rest in the light. It was a gleaming black brooch.

"Oh," Etna paused, bending to pick it up. "Here Flonne. Isn't this the brooch that that Vlanaar guy gave you?"

She shivered. For some reason, the sight of the black gem brought an impulse of terror coarsing through her. But Flonne shook her head. Now was not the time to get ridiculous. It was just a piece of jewelery, after all. No reason to get superstitious.

"Yes, thank you," she said, taking it from Etna's hands. Falteringly, she pinned the brooch to the outside frill of her blouse--the hole Laharl had cut had been made closer to her collar-bone--and while it showed a little bit of skin, it didn't reveal anything indecent. Nonetheless, Etna clicked her tongue.

"We're going to have to get you some new clothes...hey, I know! I'll give you a make-over!"

Flonne groaned as she was pulled out of the room. The door closed with a tiny snap

* * *

**A/N: And that's it. I introduced a new character in this chapter. If you didn't realize who it was, I'll let you know now--the mysterious blue shadow that you see in the middle of this chapter is going to appear more often. I hope I'm not giving too much away, though. Anyway, please review!!**


	8. Letting Her Leave

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea. **

**Ta-Dah! This is the chapter where we see a new face, and there seems to be prankster mood in the air. I also would like to thank Mei Fire, Clow Angel, Saiyan Angie, and nyanya-woof91 for reviewing. Sorry it took so long, but I had a huge test to study for in my Psychology class, and it was hell. But patience has paid off at last! RxR!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven- Letting Her Leave**

Night fell with an astounding subtlety on the Overlord's castle. With everything that had happened today, no one noticed the sun sinking lower in the sky, nor did anyone appreciate the vivid russet color of the world above them. It was as if someone ran a sword through the heavens and the blood it shed leaked through and stained the clouds. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own worries and frustrations to be interested in much else.

Besides, even if they had bothered to take a look at the night sky, it was doubtful that they would even notice it. After all, how can you see the darkness around you when you're being blinded by the darkness in your own heart?

Far away, in Celestia, Cebes was having a lot of trouble seeing the castle in such a hazy black abyss. "No way that's just an ordinary night sky..." he murmured. "Is it really that dark in the Netherworld? I've never been there...it could be that things are that way there..." he frowned. "Or is the pool getting more and more polluted? Should I tell the Seraph?"

He hesitated, looking back into the swirling darkness.

"No," he said to himself. "Lamington-sama gave me my orders. I am to obey...I must keep watch over Flonne."

"Really?" came a voice from behind him. "I guess my hunch was right after all..."

Cebes wheeled around. Standing behind him looking notoriously innocent was another angel. She wore her golden blonde hair tied back beneath a green bandana that matched her emerald eyes perfectly, and her face was the very essence of serentiy--only spoiled by the stubborness lingering in her brow and the cunning in her smile. The angel girl planted her hands on her hips, triumph flashing in her eyes.

"I guess she really is involved in the Seraph's schemes again," she said. "That's just like Flonne--getting caught up in things she can't understand."

"Ozonne," Cebes muttered, looking alarmed. "You shouldn't be in here."

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "If Flonne can go off on a mission to slay the Overlord of the Netherworld even though she's just a trainee, I think I have the right to check up on her every now and then, right? After all, I just became a full angel."

"You've been abusing that position ever since."

"I'm worried about her!" Ozonne protested. It wasn't long before a petulant scowl flashed across her features, disrupting the harmony in her angelic face. "Listen, Cebes, I'm only going to tell you once--after that, all bets are off, even if you are a loyal servant of Master Lamington. Rumor has it that something evil is brewing in the Netherworld, something that's threatening to take over Celestia. If Flonne really is involved, then I have to go find her!"

"You shouldn't be listening to that kind of gossip. But since we're on the subject, where did you get your information?"

Ozonne flashed him a coy smile. "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies...lying is a sin, you know."

"Very well," Cebes grumbled. He never could quite stomach this girl--she was quite a nuisance. "But I can't let you go into the Netherworld. If anything, I'm the one who will have to go. The pool is growing too polluted to see into, and the Seraph gave me direct orders to keep an eye out for danger."

"I don't see why we both can't go. But then, I guess it would be even more useful for you to stay behind and cover my tracks."

Cebes was indignant. "I will do no such thing! You will stay here in Celestia with your mother and father! They'll be worried sick about you if you leave!"

She gave him a side-ways look. "Don't you think they're worried about Flonne, too?"

Cebes grew quiet. Suspiciously quiet. It seemed as if he was weighing his options, considering carefully about what he would say next. But instead of giving Ozonne hope that he was caving in, the silence made her more and more suspicious. It was like he knew something she didn't.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said hastily. "Fine, you can go. But you can't go without me--I can't risk you causing more problems in the Netherworld."

Ozonne's face brightened. Now she looked more like an angel than she ever did before. "Great! I'll get my things!" She turned to run out of the room, but Cebes caught her by the shoulder and stopped her from leaving. "Oh," Ozonne sighed. "What is it, now, Cebes?? We can't waste time."

"I understand that you miss Flonne, but you mustn't be too hasty. Let's establish one thing...well, actually, two things first. If you don't listen to me, then I'll have to force you to stay."

"Understood. What are your conditions?"

"First, you will come with me to see the Seraph to get his permission before you and I leave. If he denies me, then neither of us can go to the Netherworld, so hold your tongue and mind your manners."

Ozonne rolled her eyes. "Manners are for people who deserve it, and lucky for you, Lamington-sama has already earned my respect."

"Second," said Cebes, plowing through as if there hadn't been an interruption. "You will follow my orders, from the moment we leave Celestia until the moment we return. This you will do unconditionally, and without hesitation. If you disobey me for any reason, Ozonne...I'll consider it treason towards the Seraph. And I won't be responsible for my actions."

"Fine," she snapped. "You always did have a big ego."

"I'm just trying to fulfill my duty for the sake of Celestia, and the Seraph."

"Well," Ozonne replied. "I'm just doing my duty for the sake of Flonne. Now, let's go find Master Lamington. I want to eat at the Overlord's table tonight!" She started walking away, then paused, turning to look back at him. "Hey, Cebes! Do you think that Flonne has managed to kill him yet?"

"You certainly are out of the loop, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh...nothing..." said Cebes. But inside, he was smirking. _Wait until she sees that Flonne's a devil now. And that she's a vassal of King Laharl! It'll absolutely freak her out..._

"Get that weird look off your face then, " said Ozonne. "You're starting to freak me out!"

* * *

"Etna?"

The demon girl stuck her nose out of her closet for a moment, her arms filled with different demonic-looking accessories that Flonne would never be caught dead in, and a wicked smile on her face. "What do you want now, Flonne?"

Flonne was lying on Etna's bed with a troubled expression on her face. "Did I really make that mess? Back in my room, I mean."

Etna paused, turning to give the fallen angel a weirded out look. "Yeah. We established that in the last chapter. Remember?"

"I don't remember anything, actually."

"Well, nervous breakdowns kind of do that to you."

"Etna," said Flonne. "Today has been so strange."

"I wouldn't really know...I was out all morning."

"You too?" Flonne looked up at her, interested. "Where did you go?"

Etna opened her mouth to reply, when suddenly the visage of the Overlord flashed up in her mind. His crimson eyes glowered at her coolly, his cape billowing behind him.

_"Remember, Etna. If Flonne finds out about this, you will simply disappear. Got it?"_

"Etna?" Flonne murmured, noticing the abrupt change in the demon girl's expression. "Are you all right?"

"Heh, heh, heh," Etna gave a weak laugh. "I...yeah, I'm fine...I was at the mall with the prinnies. I got a whole bunch of new outfits."

The fallen angel turned her gaze in the direction of the numerous shopping bags that completely hid the floor. "I've seen some of them...they look a lot like the outfit you always wear."

"You can never have too much of a good thing," Etna replied smugly.

Flonne merely shrugged. She wasn't in much of a mood to talk about clothes, or even action shows. Etna had already tried. Things were starting to look downright depressing. As the fallen angel turned her face away from her again, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

"Flonne, will you stop moping already!" she griped, clenching her hands into fists. "It's pathetic how much you're wilting over one stupid little fight with the Prince!"

Flonne, who was draped face-forward on Etna's bed, merely sighed and mumbled something.

"Um, hello? I can't hear you, dummy! You're mouth is pressed right up against the mattress."

The fallen angel groaned slightly, but pulled herself up into a sitting position. She looked a lot worse for the wear. "I'm not worried about what Laharl thinks of me anymore..."

"You're such a crappy liar. You do know that, right?"

Flonne grimaced. "I guess I am a bit preoccupied...but that's not the only thing that was--EEK!!" she shrieked. Etna had thrown a pillow at her face.

"For the last time! Stop moping!!"

Angrily, she plucked another pillow from the bed and held it threateningly at Etna. "I'm not moping!"

Etna paused, a small smile crossing her face. "Are you seriously planning on taking me on? In a pillow-fight, no less!"

"I won't lose to you!"

"Now, now, Flonne, what ever happened to violence isn't the answer?"

The fallen angel froze, as if she had had a knife plunged into her heart. The pillow fell from her hands and landed softly on the floor. "I'm sorry..." she murmured, her hands flying to her face as if hoping to catch any more evil sentiments and hiding them from Etna. "I...I don't know what's gotten over me..."

Etna lowered her pillow, frowning. "I wasn't serious, Flonne. Come on, don't wimp out on me now!"

Flonne shook her head sadly. Then, she let her face drop towards the floor, her expression masked by the tendrils of golden blonde hair that hung in front of her tear-filled eyes.

"Flonne?" said Etna. "Aw, dammit! Not again!! I just got you to stop crying, and now you're starting up again! You got some nerve!"

She gave her a watery chuckle. "Sorry. I must seem like a real mess," she sighed, moving her hair out of her face. Then, she wiped the tears out of her eyes, looking up to give the demon girl a half-hearted smile. "It's just that I had such a horrible day, and...well...Etna...I think I'm changing...everything's happening so fast."

Etna regarded the fallen angel with a raised eyebrow for a second, then dropped her pillow and plunked down beside her. "All right. Let's say that you are changing. So what? It's not like you're completely twisted and evil now. I mean, short of completely destroying your room, you're still kind of a love freak. You're just adjusting to being a demon, that's all."

Flonne shook her head. "I don't think that's it..." she said softly. "Everything happened so suddenly, from the memory lapses and the mood swings, all the way down to the nightmares--..." she stopped talking abruptly, giving Etna a startled expression that said clearly that she had just revealed forbidden information.

"Nightmares?" said Etna flatly.

There was a long pause.

"Don't tell Laharl," Flonne mumbled.

"Why shouldn't I? And anyway, what's the big deal?"

"I've been trying so hard to make him accept love more and more--what if he blames whatever is happening to me on love? If he sees it as a weakness, he'll just push it away again."

Etna understood the hidden meaning in her words. Flonne hadn't meant that Laharl would push love away; she meant that he would push her away.

"Etna, please..."

"Oh, all right," she muttered grudgingly. "I won't tell. But you owe me for this."

Flonne nearly melted in relief. "Thank you! I knew I could trust you..."

The demon girl shrugged. She was starting to feel inexplicably guilty again for the incident at the top of the castle; and Etna wasn't accustomed to feeling remorse. So she tried to shake it off, to little success. "What are your nightmares about?"

Flonne hesitated.

"To be honest...they're more like...visions. I'm awake when I see them. But then...I kind of lose awareness of myself...who I am, what I'm doing..." The fallen angel shivered.

Etna looked mildly surprised. "That's odd. What do you usually see?"

"The only thing I can actually remember is...well...a blue shadow."

"Blue, huh...?"

"I never had these visions...nightmares...whatever they are--until today," Flonne whispered. "And that thing with Vlanaar on top of it all."

Etna sat up a little straighter, but her tail was doing an excited little dance as she regarded her friend. "Are you talking about that really hot guy who flew you home? That guy Laharl flipped out over?"

Flonne groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"What I don't understand is how Laharl knew I'd be coming home that way..." she sighed. "But then, I hadn't expected him to be waiting for me at all...he didn't even remember about his Restoration." She looked up at Etna and noticed her panicked expression. "Are you all right, Etna?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "I just...I had...forgotten myself..."

Flonne frowned. "I don't understand. A year ago today was the day Laharl stopped being a prinny! How can you forget a day like that if you care about him?"

"Well...I do remember eating a pudding and then suddenly having the jackass bust in on me to reclaim his throne," said Etna slowly. She tried to act disdainful, but she and Flonne both knew quite well that Etna had hated the job. Too much paperwork for her tastes. "Anyway," she continued, "I hate to break it to you, Flonne, but the person I care about is the late King Krichevskoy. Not Laharl. And anyway, why should I remember that, anyway? I'm not the one who's in love with him..."

The fallen angel blushed crimson. "I...I...I care about him, but I..." she shook her head furiously. "How can I possibly be in love with such a selfish, mean, inconsiderate...jerk?"

"Don't lie."

"Am I that obvious?"

"You're lucky that the Prince is so dense, otherwise he totally would have caught on by now."

Flonne averted her gaze. "That was the day that I...I told him that I...I love him."

"What?!" Etna screeched, flying out of her chair. "What are you talking about?? When did this happen?! Dammit, how could you keep something like this for me?"

"I didn't want you to make fun of him. And don't say that you wouldn't have; that would be the worst lie I heard since Mid-Boss claimed he was straight." Flonne stood up and began pacing. "Anyway, that's not important. The point is that I confessed my feelings to Laharl that day, and he didn't even remember. So doesn't that mean that he never took them seriously to begin with? Or that he just doesn't care?"

"He cares," said Etna simply.

Flonne paused. "How do you know?"

The demon girl thought for a minute. "It's kind of hard to explain..."

There was a long silence as Etna tried to put thoughts into words.

"The Prince is complicated in his own way," she began. "He acts tough as nails--and he is pretty strong, I admit--but he's totally a softie inside. You've already proven that on countless occasions...

"Well, what's wrong with that?"

"A true demon can't afford to let his heart get in the way of his affairs," Etna explained. "For an Overlord, it could completely unman him in front of his subjects; Laharl could lose everything if other demons were to find out that he actually has a heart." The demon girl had an as-a-matter-of-factly smirk on her face. "In a sense, you've given Laharl his greatest weakness, and you know how he hates being weak."

"Love isn't a weakness!"

"Hey, will you shut up a minute?" said Etna, holding up her hands pleadingly. "I'm only telling you how he sees it. You were the one who wanted to know why he keeps pushing love out of his heart."

"But this is all wrong!" said Flonne, looking distressed. "Demons shouldn't go around with an idea like that! Love can be one's greatest strength!"

"Look, I know you angels actually like going around with such a loony idea in your heads, but this is the Netherworld! You'ore a demon now--start acting like it!"

Flonne scowled at her defiantly.

"Anyway," she added, "if love really is your greatest strength, you sure aren't acting like it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at you. You fell in love, and now you're a mess."

"Etna, it's not love that's making me feel like this! It's...a lack of love..."

The demon girl rolled forward and got right in Flonne's face. She had a smile on her face as though the fallen angel were the choiciest stick of pocki, fresh from the box, smothered in chocolate, and ready to be devoured. "Prove to me that you aren't weak. Prove to us all that love is a strength."

Flonne's expression slowly changed from uncertainty to determination. As soon as her face was set, her hands clenched themselves into fists. When she looked back at Etna, there was a mysterious fire burning behind her ruby eyes. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Name your challenge, Etna."

"All right," Etna shrugged. "But don't say that I didn't warn you."

The fallen angel probably would have chosen to ignore this; but right at that moment, the demon girl pulled out a freakishly huge can of shaving cream and a feather duster. The look on her face was so devious that it would have made a hardened cop shiver in fear.

"I...I...you can't be serious!"

"Backing out are we?"

"No!" Flonne snapped. "But, Etna, this is dangerous! If we get caught--"

"Now who said anything about we?" she said, looking downright amused. "As far as I remember, you're the only one who has something to prove."

The fallen angel hesitated, weighing her options. "Laharl will kill me."

"It's not my problem," she replied, trying to sound indifferent. "Though...if it counts, I don't really think that Laharl would do something like that. The worst he might do is break a couple of ribs, because you're a vassal."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Flonne gasped. "No...that doesn't matter as long as..." she trailed off, shifting her gaze to meet hers. "If I do it, will you believe in the power of love?"

"Yeah, sure..." said Etna, crossing her fingers behind her back. "Whatever you want."

"Then I'll do it...no matter what the cost, I cannot back down. The name of love is at stake."

Flonne slid off of the mattress and strode over to Etna, taking the shaving cream from her hands. She looked at it a moment, then began to shake it. After ten seconds or so, she stopped and took the feather duster from her as well.

"Right," she said. "I'm off."

"Good luck."

Flonne began walking towards the door, but then stopped.

"You know, Etna-san...you know so much about Laharl...more than I'll ever know."

Etna looked up at her back, feeling apprehensive. "I've known him longer. That's all."

The fallen angel smiled sadly, though the demon girl couldn't see with her back turned. "I envy that...I envy those memories you must have shared...together."

"Flonne..."

Flonne flashed her a false smile. "I'll be back soon. Unless you want to come along and take a picture..."

Etna hesitated. "I'll do it," she said, feeling like she would regret this tomorrow. "If we get caught, I'll probably take the rap for it. But I need to earn back my lost paycheck somehow...a picture like that on Hell-bay should do it. Maybe."

"Let's hope so."

* * *

Laharl lay in his coffin, brooding. He was curled up on his side--which was his most comfortable sleeping position--and stared at the wall, listening to the silence that had engulfed the entire castle. In other words, he was taking comfort in nothingness.

_Stupid Flonne..._

The day, their fight, flashed back in his mind. That annoying love freak...how she constantly preached about the very thing he despised the most. How she reminded him of things he'd rather forget... She was insufferable. He couldn't stand her; but he also couldn't stand the thought of her leaving.

He couldn't ignore that feeling. It was all her fault. All her fault for making his heart beat in this strange rhythm, her fault for making him feel these things and then bestowing her feelings on another. It was all her fault; Laharl would never forgive her. How could he?

King Laharl loved his fallen angel; and she said that she love him too. But now...with this mysterious Vlanaar...had she lied to him that day, one year ago?

_"I love you, Laharl-san."_

It was betrayal. Unforgivable.

But he couldn't stand the thought of her going away. All punishments he could think of were pointless now. If he killed her, then she would be gone forever. If he locked her away in the bowels of his fortress, hidden away from the outside world, she would shrivel and die anyway. She was too much like a flower--she needed the sun on her back and fresh air in her lungs to be truly happy.

So what was he supposed to do now? Give up Flonne, his vassal, his love freak? She belonged to him, plain and simple. And no one ever stole something from right under his nose and lived to tell the tale. Laharl wouldn't even consider it.

But how else would he make her happy?

"Arrgh..." he grumbled under his breath. "Damn her...damn that stupid, promiscuous love freak!"

He suddenly felt restless and turned over to his other side, his back facing the door. But he felt an uncomfortable bulge in his pocket, and as he leaned on that side, the object pressed uncomfortably into his hip. "What the--? What is this?"

Laharl reached into his pocket and pulled out the pendant he had bought for Flonne. It looked so sad--the sparkling jewels seemed to sparkle solemnly, even in the dim lighting of his bedroom. The hand holding it trembled slightly, then clenched into a fist, trapping the necklace in his palm with a crushing grip.

He shoved it underneath his pillow forcefully, wanting to hide it. He hated these feelings. He hated everything.

That was when he heard the footsteps in the hall. His ears twitched at the sound, and strained to listen. There was no mistaken that light pitter patter against the tiled floor.

This was the Overlord's private chambers. What was she doing here? Had she no shame?

No, someone was with her...someone with a bold, temiritous footstep.

As annoyed as he was for their intrusion, Laharl was also interested. He curled back up on his side and allowed his eyes to slide shut, listening and waiting for them to come in. He already had a plan to figure out what they were up to.

The door creaked open.

"What are you waiting for?" Etna whispered. "If you don't hurry up, he'll wake up."

"I...I don't really see what love has to do with...this..." Flonne stammered. "He'll never forgive me for this, Etna."

Hmmm...interesting. Could it be that she was here to apologize? The thought brought a pleased smirk to Laharl's lips. Of course, he wouldn't be accepting her apology, but it was still...nice...to know that she felt remorse.

"Just get in there!"

Flonne yelped as Etna pushed her through the threshold. Laharl heard her hit the floor a few feet away from the foot of his coffin and winced inside. They certainly weren't bothering to be subtle, were they?

Laharl sensed rather than heard her pick herself up off the floor and creep closer to his side. He kept his eyes shut, but he didn't need to see her there. The very essense of her being seemed so obvious--his sharp sense of smell caught the scent of her aloe-leaf shampoo as she moved right next to him. Despite the fact that Flonne was here, though, Laharl was getting more and more suspicious about Etna. He doubted that she was just here for moral support.

Flonne looked down at the Overlord. He seemed so peaceful in his sleep, normally. But now, the way his brow furrowed, it was as though he was concentrating on something. _I wonder what he's dreaming about..._

The bottle of shaving cream in her hands was forgotten. She put it down on the night-stand and sat down beside Laharl's sleeping form. The mattress sank a little from the added weight.

Laharl almost jolted in surprise. She was so close...too close...what did she think she was doing? Every part of him seemed to be utterly aware of the fallen angel. His skin cells practically screamed as her hand reached out and touched his face.

"Flonne!" Etna hissed. "What are you doing? Cut that out before you wake him up!"

But Flonne felt a strange ache in her heart. "I almost wish...he would. But then he'd kick both of us out, right? I'm sorry for that..."

Her hand seemed to be carressing his cheek. Laharl felt like he was going insane from her touch.

"Please don't hate me," she murmured softly to the sleeping Overlord. Her hand moved away.

But that was even more unbearable. Laharl couldn't stand the thought of her leaving. Quick as a flash, he reached out and caught her hand in a tight grip, holding her fast.

Flonne let out a startled gasp and tried hastily to draw away, but it was no good. Slowly, Laharl's eyes slid open.

"Should I hate you, Flonne?" he said quietly, his crimson eyes meeting hers in a silent question.

Flonne looked frightened. She tried harder to pry his hand away from hers, but Laharl held on with a vengeance. He did nothing else, just kept gazing into her face, watching her fear.

"Do you really think I'm just going to let you go that easily...love freak?"


	9. Confrontation and Surprises

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea. I do not own Dr. Suess either. ****I do not like green eggs and ham; I**** do not like them Sam I Am.**

**I apologize for taking my damn sweet time with this chapter. I had a lot of prep work to do for this Calculus midterm I have coming up on the fourteenth. So it's pretty chaotic right now. I felt so bad for not updating right away. I still would like to take the time to thank Mei Fire, Clow Angel, and Saiyan Angie since they took the time to review the last chapter. Hugs!**

**And now without further ado!**

* * *

**Chapter Eight- Confrontation and Surprises**

Flonne stared at him with wide eyes. Her mouth hung open as though she wanted to cry out, but nothing seemed to be coming out of her mouth. It was like her voice had curled up and died from the shock at seeing Laharl awake. And...oh, crud, he wouldn't let go of her hand...Flonne felt goosebumps racing up her arm at the very touch--pleasant shivers crept through her body, despite the obvious fact that she was in very deep trouble. Perhaps she was in even more trouble than she had been before she had come into the room. Flonne waited, hardly daring to breathe under the scrutiny the Overlord leant her.

Laharl smirked at her obvious predicament. "You look uncomfortable...Flonne..."

The fallen angel winced at the sound of her name.

"Feeling guilty?" he asked with something like satisfaction in his voice.

"I...I..." she stammered. At the moment, Flonne was really, really hoping that he didn't notice the can of shaving cream sitting on his dresser. But at the moment, Laharl's attention was focused solely on her, so she kept her gaze on the carpet. "I don't understand what you mean..."

Laharl looked slightly miffed. "Don't lie."

_Is it that obvious?_ Flonne thought in desperation, for once wishing that she had more expertise in dishonesty. She actually was wishing she was more like a demon. Trying to recover, she murmured, "I understand that you're upset with me...but...I don't know what I did that made you so mad."

"Like hell you don't."

"No, really, I--"

But Laharl held up a hand to silence her. His gaze had shifted to Etna, who was watching them with a very intrigued expression from across the room.

"Get out," he said flatly.

"Oh, come on, Prince!"

"Dammit, Etna! Now!"

"But I--"

Laharl pointed imperiously towards the door. When Etna didn't move, he sighed and allowed for his entire hand to be consumed in the raw energy that was the beginning of his Overlord's Wrath spell. "Last chance. Get out before I make you."

Etna shot him a venomous look and stuck out her tongue. "Fine. But I had nothing to do with this."

"You're a worse liar than Flonne," he replied. "Now go."

The demon girl huffed and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. As she traversed the remainder of the hallway, uttering swear words and graphic phrases, Flonne knew in the pit of her stomach that a couple of prinnies were going to die that night. It was just the way things usually turned out.

There was a long silence afterwards, during which Flonne quietly tried to peel his fingers away. As soon as Laharl realized that her intent was to escape again, he glared at her. "Stop it," he snapped.

"Your grip is too tight..."

Laharl averted his gaze in order to appear indifferent, and suddenly spotted the shaving cream. In his interest, he inadvertently let go of her hand; and quick as a flash, Flonne withdrew to the opposite side of the bed. She knew that it would be extremely unwise to try to bolt--even when the Overlord was distracted, he was not a fool. He shot her a side-ways glance as she squirmed away from her.

"You better not try to run," he said. "I'm not finished with you."

Flonne made a noise of protest and edged a little farther away. Laharl rolled his eyes.

Without even looking her way again, he absent-mindedly put his arm around her waist and jerked her closer to him. A hot flush crept up Flonne's cheeks as she found herself practically sitting on his lap. Her breathing became shallow as she tried to calm herself, but she had never actually been in his arms like this before. And, yes, he was restraining her; but nonetheless...

"Now sit still and calm your ass down," he commanded quietly.

Flonne didn't reply. She was too distracted by the sensation of feeling his heartbeat, throbbing quietly beside her own. And strangely enough, it was even more frenetic than hers--and he looked so calm, so indifferent. Flonne trembled quietly as she tried to sort through her thoughts.

Then she looked up and saw him reaching for the can.

"L-Laharl...!"

But it was too late. His sharp eyes were already reading the label, and Flonne felt her stomach plunging as they narrowed into slits. "So..." he murmured. "Where did this come from...?"

Flonne kept quiet, hoping that he would forget that she was there.

"Flonne?"

Damn!

"Yes?" she breathed.

"Answer the question."

"I...well...I mean...Etna and I...she...well..."

"She wanted to play a prank on me, I guess," Laharl interjected, not at all in a patient mood. "And of course you're gullible enough to go along with her schemes..." He reflected on this for a moment before adding, "You know, you're gullible enough to walk into the arms of an enemy and not know it."

Flonne went very still. "What do you mean?"

"You tell me," he snapped. For a minute or two he glared at the wall, but then slowly, turned back to face her. She was looking up at him in bewilderment, and that too was unbearable. "On second thought," he amended, "don't tell me. I'm too tired to yell at you now, and I'm still pissed at you."

"Then why are you being nice?"

Laharl's face turned bright red.

"S-shut up!" he stammered. "Idiot! I'm not being nice to you! Didn't I just get through telling you how tired I am?"

"You seemed wide awake when I came in," Flonne noted.

Laharl made a noise of disdain and shoved her away from him. The fallen angel landed softly against the mattress, but found herself sprawled on her back. At first, he really hadn't planned on looking at her at all for the rest of their conversation. In fact, he was just about to send her away. But when he pushed her, Flonne had cried out in surprise, and Laharl involuntarily looked towards her again. He found himself staring straight at her thighs.

All the blood seemed to rush into his head at that moment.

"Dammit, get up already," he snapped, hastily averting his gaze.

Flonne pulled herself into a sitting position, a blush lingering in her own cheeks. Barely recovering in time, she scowled defiantly at him. "Don't push me over then!"

"Hmmph! I'll do whatever the hell I want, Love Freak."

Despite his curt tone, the fallen angel could sense a distinct discomfort in his voice. She looked up at him and noticed how his gaze kept darting to his pillow.

"If you really are tired," she said resignedly, "I can leave."

Laharl glowered at her. "I'm not letting you leave. You're the one who was dumb enough to trespass in the first place. Deal with it."

Well, wasn't he being stubborn. Flonne felt a little frustrated. She knew that the Overlord wouldn't be too reasonable after their argument before, but his behavior now seemed far too petulant. He was acting like a spoiled child who wanted to have his way, but couldn't--and therefore was trying to make everyone around him miserable. As if that would compensate for whatever he was missing.

_What is he missing, anyway? _Flonne wondered.

Even if she wanted to ask him, Flonne knew that she couldn't. Laharl had that look on his face that clearly said that the next person who asked him an unnecessary question would be sentenced to death. It didn't matter if _she_ felt it was necessary--in this castle, the only person whose feelings mattered was Laharl.

If Flonne hadn't felt so torn, she wouldn't have known the difference. She was always thinking about how Laharl was feeling--so much that she had lately neglected her own emotions. And it had finally caught up to her too.

Laharl hadn't said anything for the past ten minutes, and Flonne hadn't dared to break the silence. So he got up from his coffin and began to stalk around the room--very much like a tiger that had been penned up in its cage for too long. Occasionally he would glance at her, his crimson eyes scanning her in an instant and moving on. It seemed as though no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his gaze away for too long. Finally, he turned to face her.

"Well don't just sit there," he snapped.

Flonne looked up. "What should I be doing? You're the one who wanted me here..."

Laharl said nothing. He too looked torn. "Just...I dunno...relax." The last word came out a little forced, and a split-second's worth of pain flashed across his face for that rare impulse of kindness. He turned away and glared at the wall so that he didn't have to look at her.

He couldn't help but think about how happy and calm she seemed around that Vlanaar guy. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach again.

"Laharl-san?"

Laharl didn't move. "What do you want, now?"

Flonne didn't know what made her say it. It wasn't the fact that he was being receptive, because he wasn't. His shoulders were tensed, and his arms were folded across his muscular chest. He looked like he was about to snap, as a matter of fact. The sight made her shiver inside.

But nonetheless, the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth. "Do you remember when you became a demon again?"

There was a pause.

Laharl turned a fraction of a degree towards her. "Yeah. I do."

There was a connection--a bridge from which Flonne could cross from obscurity into a world of understanding. She hastened to cross it before it could vanish. "It was a year ago...a year ago today."

"I know. What's your point?"

Flonne shrugged before remembering that Laharl couldn't see her--his back was still turned. "Nothing...I just...I just wanted to know if you remembered, is all." Hearing him acknowledge that day made her feel marginally better. At least the event was notable enough to be worth remembering. She would have lapsed into silence at that point if Laharl hadn't interjected, butting into her thoughts once more.

"Is that what you were hassling me about this morning?"

"Yes...I'm sorry."

"Hmmph...whatever. Stupid Love Freak."

At that moment, it suddenly occurred to Laharl that the whole incident with Vlanaar that afternoon may have just been a pathetic ruse to get his attention. If Flonne had still been an angel, he would have immediately ruled it out as being way out of her character. But lately he noticed that the fallen angel was growing more and more like a demon--it wasn't completely unlikely that she could plan a deception like this now.

The thought that Flonne had come up with such a ridiculous plan to make him jealous served two purposes: it boosted his ego, and it made him feel superior. Laharl never had to resort to such ridiculous actions. He was above that.

_She really is just a Love Freak...hmmph..._

From Flonne's perspective, the Overlord seemed to be thinking long and hard about something--but after five minutes of silence, he turned around to face her, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. It made Flonne start. Then, a strange warmth bubbled in her heart, sending a comfortable flush rushing to her face. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards into a smile.

"You're hopeless," he said.

Flonne got up out off of the coffin.

"I know," she said softly. "For a long time I knew..."

Now it seemed as though they were talking about something else. But neither of them were very subtle at concealing what it was.

"How long?" Laharl wanted to know.

"Since I first saw that you were capable of..." she stopped herself from saying love, knowing that it would only upset him. She shook her head, blushing fiercely.

Laharl's cynical smile deepened into a smirk. Now he was definitely in the mood to play her game--pointless as it was. He strode over the rest of the length of the room until he was standing right in front of Flonne. Immediately, he saw her freeze like a rabbit caught in the path of a hunter and felt himself torn between sadistic pride and frustration that she could never relax when he was this close. Scowling, he took her by the chin and forced her to look at him again.

"Of what?"

Flonne's lips barely moved. "Affection."

The smirk returned. "Oh, I see..."

He brought his face tantalizingly close to hers now, savoring the look of shock on her gentle features. It was comical how such a simple motion could make her squirm. He thought that her spaz-like tendencies were both endearing and frustrating at the same time. Though Laharl would sooner kill a baby than admit that to anyone.

He tried to act indifferent. He really, really did. But somehow, just seeing Flonne happy made him forget all of his reasons for remaining aloof. The thought of what other demons would say about the Overlord growing soft, the thought of his vassals losing respect for him completely left Laharl's mind as his eyes met hers.

"And are you this hopeless towards everyone? Or just me?"

"Just you..."

"Don't move," he breathed, closing the gap between them.

Flonne held her breath as Laharl inched closer and closer, sensing the mere centimeters that separated their lips from each other. She felt frozen in place; those crimson eyes seemed to stare right into her heart, could sense exactly what she wanted right then and there--and Laharl seemed to be enjoying what he was seeing.

"Dammit, Love Freak..." he murmured, "you might just be contagious..."

Before she could reply, Laharl's mouth molded perfectly against hers, overwhelming her in a kiss. Her heart squirmed violently within her, half protesting her own helplessness, half leaping in excitement. In the haze of the satifaction that swept over her, she felt his hands gripping her waist, holding her still as he continued to probe and explore past her lips. Flonne shuddered and moved her arms around his neck, crooning with pleasure as he brought her even closer still. She could feel his heart beating as frantically as hers, as though they were racing each other towards cardiac arrest.

It was a shame that things wouldn't stay this way for much longer.

Suddenly, a large explosion shook the palace. The shockwaves knocked them both off of their feet; they wound up sprawled on the floor, blinking in bemusement as the blown apart stone crumbled from the ceiling, showering them in a pale white dust. Flonne coughed and sheilded her eyes, trying to keep from inhaling the irritating fumes.

Laharl on the other hand was more productive. As soon as he hit the floor, he instinctively reached for his Cosmic Blade, which he kept sheathed within the folds of his cape. It was a good thing he had those combat reactions practically beaten into him. Immediately after he brandished his sword at the haze surrounding him, he felt a blade of cold steel colliding with the flat of his sword. Because he was caught off his guard, the force of the blow caused his legs to buckle. Gritting his teeth in anger, the Overlord pushed his assailant backwards with brute strength. Soon, he was back on his own sturdy two legs.

_Damn_, he thought. _Whoever the bastard is, he's strong. Hmmmph...I bet I can still take him, though._

The smoke had thinned out slightly, and Laharl was able to see the assassin's face more clearly. Unfortunately, it was hidden behind a dark blue material that he took to be a mask.

On the other hand, Flonne, who still hadn't completely grasped the situation, found herself gazing wordlessly up at the attacker--and felt her heart skip a beat. It wasn't just his face that was shrouded in the dark blue substance; it was his entire body. Her mouth opened in a silent scream at the exact same time she sucked in her breath. As a result, her voice was trapped in the back of her throat.

"Prince!" came a loud cry from down the hallway. "Flonne!"

Flonne wheeled around and saw Etna racing into the room. She had her spear drawn, and several prinnies were gasping for air as they struggled to meet her frantic pace. They all stumbled inside after her, collapsing on the floor. Etna barely had time to shoot them a withering look.

"Dammit," she muttered. "I knew they'd be useless."

"You're one to talk!" Laharl snarled at her, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly in his hands. "Quit your...yakking...and do something...!"

Etna recognized the urgent rage in his tone--it was how she knew that Laharl actually needed some help for once. From a distance, she could see that he was actually struggling to keep his opponent's blade from slicing through his body.

"Hey, Prince!" she called, readying her spear. "Let me take a stab at him!"

"Be my guest," Laharl muttered. Hastily, he bent his knees and sprang backwards, aiming a blow at his face. It was a perfect move. The Cosmic Blade cut clean through the enemy's skull. Simultaneously, Etna charged forwards. Her spear stabbed through the attacker's chest and pierced through his heart...or should have...she could see the point of the spear peeking through his back.

But they both knew something was wrong when the body didn't crumple to the ground. At the very least, there should have been blood or scraps torn brain-tissue dangling off of the edge of the Cosmic Blade. But Laharl looked down and saw it was as clean as it would be if he had tried slicing through a cloud. Meanwhile, Etna was having trouble pulling her spear free. She tugged and tugged obstinately, but it refused to budge. She swiveled her gaze to look up at the stranger, her eyes wide and confused.

"Who are you?" Laharl demanded, looking furious. "How dare you attack the Overlord's castle!?"

The stranger gaze silently at him. But only for a moment. An instant later, he turned his gaze away from the two demons and stared at Flonne. She cringed and backed away into a crumbling wall. She stumbled a bit and would have fallen over if it hadn't been for a pair of strong hands forcing her body upright.

She froze. The hands were cold as ice. It felt like they were holding onto her spine and gripping it tightly, making it rigid and straight. Flonne couldn't have moved to save her life; and she realized that the reason had something to do with the way the assailant had his arm outstretched towards her. It was as though several invisible strings bound her limbs to his fingers. He had complete control over her for the moment.

With his other hand, the stranger grabbed the hilt of Etna's spear. Instantly, a cold charge went through the weapon, causing the demon girl to scream in pain. She let go of the spear and staggered backwards, clutching her hands to her chest.

"What are you?" she whispered angrily.

* * *

**A/N: And that's Chapter Eight. I also just wanted to point out that I stopped using the name endings (-san, -chan, etc.) because I felt that at this point, the characters should be close enough to call each other by their first names. Though occasionally Flonne might lapse into old habits and address Laharl with an ending. I wanted to clear that up in case there was any confusion.**

**I also hope that I didn't make Laharl too OOC in this. I wanted him to seem smug and overconfident--telling himself that Vlanaar was just a tool Flonne was using to make him jealous. That's why you see him taking what he wants with no regrets or hesitation. The kiss scene was really bothering me in that regard and took me quite a while to get it satisfactory. **

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I know it was a while since I updated, but I appreciate those who leave reviews despite all of that...heh, heh...**

**Anywho, please review!**


	10. Awakening

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea. But one day I will. Nippon Ichi will soon accept me as they're undenyable Overlord!! BU-WA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!**

_Watery-the-Strange_**: Laharl? How did you get in here?! Shouldn't you be fighting the intruder or something?**

_Laharl_**: (Freezes) Um...well, yeah. But you didn't update in a while. So I got bored and decided to go out on a quick conquest... (Recovers himself) Not that it's any of your business, you weak little human.**

_Watery-the-Strange_**: Okay. (Pulls out a lethal looking weapon and points it at Laharl). But I'm not responsible for my actions, so back in the story you go!**

_Laharl_**: ...you humans sure are weird. But fine. Here's the next chapter. (Wraps arms behind head nonchalantly) You know, you're just lucky that I'm so bored, and that I'm interested to see how this story would turn out. I'd never grace this crappy little fic with my prescence otherwise.**

_Watery-the-Strange_**: Oh, you kidder! Now go kick some ass.**

**Thank you cagasuki04, Witch Girl Pilar, and Zazz666 for reviewing the last chapter. Enjoy the next chapter!! RxR**

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**Chapter Nine: Awakening**

Far away, in Celestia, Lamington regarded his subordinates with a frown. "You wish to go to the Netherworld?"

Ozonne was staring up at the Seraph unabashedly while Cebes tried to look humble. He shot Ozonne a stern look before coughing nervously, turning to appeal to the ruler of heaven.

"We believe it would be in everyone's best interests, Seraph."

Master Lamington turned his gaze to Ozonne. "And what about you, Ozonne? What are your...intentions?"

She scowled at him. "I want to find Flonne."

"Indeed," said Lamington with a smile. "You must miss her very much."

Ozonne unknit her brow, looking sad and withdrawn. "I want to bring her home."

The Seraph regarded her with a distant smile, but his violet eyes scrutinized her face carefully. He knew that she and Flonne were close, and that their bond was truly unique. But when you put the two girls together, they behaved more like rivalsthan anything else. They had been that way since they were children.

"I can understand," he told her after a moment of reflection. "At the moment, however...I'm not sure if I can allow you to leave."

The two regarded him, flabberghasted. Cebes looked alarmed, while Ozonne clenched her hands into fists. "Lamington," she growled. "I have to go. I know for a fact that Flonne's going to be in danger...if she isn't already."

"I'm sorry," said the Seraph. "I know that isn't good enough. But I assure you that she won't remain a stranger to Celestia. One day, Flonne will return...perhaps sooner than you think."

Her head shot up. "How do you know? What do you know?"

Behind her, Cebes groaned. Faintly, he murmured, "Absolutely shameless..."

"I have my sources," said Lamington. "But I hope you can forgive me if I can't divulge everything at this particular moment."

"I don't know if I can."

The Seraph nodded, a little sadly. "It is fitting. I have earned it."

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and a wiry-looking youth scrambled inside. "Master Cebes! Master Lamington!! It's an emergency!"

"What is it, Devin?"

The boy stopped, gasping for breath. "I...ran...the whole...way..." he panted. Heavily, he swallowed before continuing. "It's the Sacred Alter, Seraph. The pool has turned...it turned...completely..."

"Dark?"

Speechless, Devin nodded.

"Can you see anything?"

Devin paused, stunned at the Seraph's omniscience. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."

Lamington looked very grim as he turned towards Cebes and Ozonne. "Right now certain things are coming to pass that are inevitable. I'm afraid I cannot put more lives into danger. You both must stay."

"But, Seraph!" Ozonne protested.

Lamington held up a hand to silence her. "My decision is final. But trust me when I tell you that you will see Flonne again...quite soon."

Frustrated, Ozonne turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Cebes sent her an admonishing look.

"Ozonne! Ozonne, come back here!!"

"Let her go, Cebes," said Lamington, looking tired. "Ozonne is right to be upset."

"She's just acting like an obstinate child!"

"Ozonne's manner when talking to someone tends to correlate with that person's respectability."

"Who can be more respectable than the Seraph of Celestia?" Cebes muttered incredulously. "And yet the way she talks to you..."

"Respect has to be earned," Lamington reminded him gently. "And I...well, I no longer deserve her respect."

Cebes turned to contradict him, but paused when he saw the look on the Seraph's face. "Seraph?"

"Flonne will return to Celestia," Lamington repeated softly. "For one last time."

The silence hung in the air. Slowly, a chilling breeze drifted through the shrine, causing everything to stir. In the distance, Cebes could see the lilies trembling anxiously, as though terrified by events to come. Lamington sighed.

"One last time."

* * *

Etna was fuming. "Who are you?" she whispered angrily.

The room was very cold all of a sudden. The demons all stared at the stranger, who kept his inscrutable gaze on Flonne. Even the fallen angel found herself strangely exhilerated. She knew that this was a foe who couldn't be beaten easily, and that there would probably be some casualties along the way. Nonetheless, there was an undenyable fact. With this man, whatever he was, there would be answers. And hopefully, these answers would smother the gnawing desire forming in her heart.

The darkness before her swirled, and suddenly, a face seemed to mold itself from the shadowy mass that Flonne thought was a head. She recognized it too well.

"Vlanaar..." she breathed, too softly for anyone to hear. Even Laharl, who had notoriously good hearing, could only distinguish a sudden exhalation of breath.

The figure smirked.

"You know why I am here. Don't you?"

"What?" Laharl snapped. He turned to look at the fallen angel. "Flonne, what's this asshole talking about?"

She shook her head wordlessly. It was as though she couldn't get the right words out of her mouth. And anyway, it wouldn't have done any good; after all, it wasn't as though she had any satisfactory answers.

She still had to find answers for herself. Flonne wanted answers more than anybody.

The shadowy Vlanaar beckoned towards her again with that same hand. Flonne felt a tremor run through her body, and without warning, she felt her legs taking wobbly steps towards him on their own. Against her will, Flonne approached him, her ruby eyes wide with fear.

"Flonne-chan!" Etna screamed in frustration. "Stay back! You're in our way!"

"You idiot!" Laharl fumed. "What do you think you're doing??"

But Flonne couldn't answer them. All of a sudden, she was standing directly in front of the attacker. With a flick of his wrist, the fallen angel's face jerked upwards to meet his gaze--Laharl could hear the joints cracking in her neck from the sharp movement and realized that Flonne wasn't acting on her own free will.

He raised his Cosmic Blade to strike again, but paused--knowing that if his aim faltered, he would hit Flonne instead. The way she was positioned, the fallen angel ended up acting as a living, breathing shield for all of the enemy's vital organs--if he had any. Laharl didn't want to acknowledge a foe that had no weak spots.

He couldn't attack, nor would he allow himself to run away. All Laharl could do was watch them, glaring from a distance. However, his muscles were poised to spring at the first opportunity to attack. The moment the attacker dropped his guard, he was a dead man...

"Did you forget me already?" the faceless man asked, cupping Flonne's chin in his hand. "It hasn't been that long...has it?"

From a distance, Laharl felt himself grow impossibly tense. He didn't like the way the intruder caressed her cheek. He didn't like how it seemed to gaze at her. Even though he didn't seem to have eyes--not that Laharl could see, anyway--it seemed to be regarding Flonne tenderly, as though she were a tender little blossom that needed great care to get to bloom. Only he certainly wasn't being all that gentle.

Laharl pushed hot air from his nostrils, wanting to rip Flonne out of his arms and put a sword in his chest. But he had already seen the results of Etna's bold attempt, and he was not eager to make the same mistakes, no matter how tempting it would be to attack.

"Who...are you...?" Flonne hissed, barely able to force the words past her lips. The simplest of movements such as speech were accomplished with extreme difficulty.

"You ask me my name," the stranger replied, "but I wonder if you even know your own."

Laharl felt venom rising in his throat. This jerk was making a big mistake.

"I'm Flonne," she choked, "once an angel trainee…now…I am...I'm...Laharl's..." she hesitated, half-glancing at Laharl. "Vassal."

The faintest hint of a smirk appeared on his face.

"Wrong."

* * *

_Flonne felt her body temperature dropping. She closed her eyes again and saw that same dense field of snow. It was blissful abandonment, sheer cold and loneliness. And there was a marble tomb with her name on it._

_"Yu...yu..." she murmured uncertainly. Flonne couldn't read the letters on the tomb very well. She reached out to brush away the snow, but found her arm was locked rigidly to her side. That's how she remembered where she was._

* * *

She opened her eyes again, and the face leered at her, mocking her.

"Your name is Yuri," he said with relish, letting the words sink in.

Flonne's eyes flickered, and everything became shrouded in darkness...

* * *

_"Momma?" the child whispered, her eyes growing huge._

_The dark shapeless mass moved slightly, as if stirred by the plea in her voice. She reached down tentatively and tried to pull out the knive pinning her to the floor. As she did so, she shot the demons a fearful look. If anything, their smiles grew broader--but they did nothing to stop her. Her small hands closed around the hilt and tugged until the blade came free. There was a huge rip in her nightgown now, but at the moment she didn't notice or care. Her attention was focused on the thing lying on the floor._

_She took a few tiny steps towards it, then lost all inhibitions and knelt down beside it, not caring that the bottom of her pristine nightgown and stockings were getting soaked in the russet-colored puddle. She was used to playing in the rain, so she didn't mind moisture too much._

_If only it wasn't such a frightening shade of red._

_The thing turned out to be a person. A woman to be exact. With a horrible gurgling sound, she turned her face towards the frozen girl, mouth hanging open and drooling. Blood bubbled at her lips._

_She was trying to speak. "Yu...Yu...Yu...ri..." her voice rattled. It looked like her throat had been cut._

_But Yuri shook her head slowly, her face deathly pale. That wasn't her mother. Her mother was somewhere in the next room, waiting to take her into her arms and tell her that all of this was a bad dream. Dreams couldn't hurt you, ever._

_Yuri tried to ignore the burning pain in her scalp from where the demon had pulled her hair. That was pain. Pain shouldn't exist here. None of this should exist._

_She turned to face the demons again, her face inscrutable. She did not see the shadow that had taken its place behind her, mirroring her movements._

_"You should not exist," she said in that quiet, child-like voice. "It is time to be erased."_

_She watched with venom as the two murderers exchanged glances, swaggering over to tower over her. They could not see the shadow either._

_Before Yuri knew it, there were two swords brandished mere inches away from her nose. But this did not concern her very much. After all, none of this was real. Those pointed blades did not exist. These monsters who had haunted her away from her covers were nothing more than dreams. And dreams could be eradicated. It was actually quite simple._

_All she had to do was awaken._

* * *

Flonne gave a shuddering gasp, feeling something rattling loose inside of her. This memory didn't belong to her. It had to be a bad dream. Only a dream, and nothing more. She closed her eyes tightly again, willing it all to be an illusion.

"Everything that you believed yourself to be was a lie. Even this," said Vlanaar, beckoning around him, "is a lie. Nothing here is real."

"If that is so," Flonne replied, quietly, "then all that I see must be erased. You must be erased."

"Hey, Prince," said Etna, who was still gingerly rubbing the angry welts on her hands. "That guy's insane!"

"I know," he said curtly. _And I wish my called shot to the brain had something to do with it, _he added mentally.

They were both distracted as Flonne suddenly summoned her holy bow and arrows. But as soon as they fell into her hands, the shining gold turned black, and the shape of the bow itself seemed to change. It looked longer, more twisted; more evil.

"What the hell?" said Laharl, astonished.

"Prince, you don't think that little miss Goody-Two-Shoes is trying to take that guy on by herself, do you?" Etna asked, looking slightly perturbed.

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "I won't let her do anything stupid. This guy is going to croak by my sword, not hers."

"Flonne uses a bow," she said flippantly.

"Dammit, don't contradict me!" Laharl growled. Then, turning to the suddenly bad-ass Flonne, he called out to her. "Love Freak! If you don't get your ass over here, pronto, I'll be kicking it later!"

The fallen angel's head snapped around, and Laharl could see that they had turned...blue?

"Do not give me orders!" she barked. "I alone control my dreams! You should not exist!"

Laharl's eyes narrowed. This certainly was interesting.

"Don't talk back to your master, Flonne."

Her glare pierced him like an icicle. Quick as a flash, she was standing in front of him, an arrow loaded and pointed into his face.

"I am not Flonne," she said simply. "You mean nothing to me!"

Just as she let her arrow fly, Laharl's sharp reflexes caught it and crushed it in his fist. His crimson eyes were blazing.

"Whoever you are, you sure have been impertinent lately," Laharl sneered. "But you should at least remember what I said before."

Her smile taunted him. "Oh?"

"Once you sign on as a vassal, you're in for life. So I really don't give a crap what name you go by, Flonne. You're mine. Forever."

"You sure are an arrogant little king, Laharl..." she crooned, loading another arrow onto her bow. "No wonder she liked you so much."

Laharl gritted his teeth. Dammit, if this kept up, he would lose sight of his original target.

Meanwhile, across the room, Etna was staring at the fallen angel, looking shocked. Since when had the gentle blonde turned so vicious? Nothing looked different about her. Nothing except the thing glowing on her chest. She squinted, trying to make it out.

_Is that...that brooch that she got from that guy earlier?_ she wondered. The longer she looked at her, the more convinced she became that the eerie blue color was radiating out of the gem and into her eyes, tinting them a matching shade. Barely any red peeked out from those sockets.

"Flonne-chan," said Etna slowly. "Why don't you take off that brooch."

Laharl glared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"That thing on her chest," she replied. "Look!"

He followed the direction of her gaze. Pinned neatly to the outside of her frock was that hated gem, sparkling blue in the darkness. Laharl would have recognized it anywhere--especially after his explosion earlier. He had held the damn thing in the palm of his hand. He was mildly surprised that he had not noticed its prescence until now.

Anger flooded him. How dare she wear that...that thing in front of him?!

Laharl's power-level sky-rocketed as he lunged towards her. All thoughts of his opponent vanished from his thoughts as he pinned the fallen angel against the wall. Flonne was winded for a moment, and could barely stop herself from slamming directly against the cold stone. She managed to dig her high heels into the ground to slow herself down and soften the blow, but they broke off from the strain. Hastily, she kicked them off, choosing to fight in her bare feet instead.

Nonetheless, she was still winded by the contact, and could barely keep herself from breaking as she grappled against the demon king.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Laharl whispered lethally. "Flonne, you've taken things too far, tonight."

With a snarl, she attempted to kick him in the knee-caps. "I...am...NOT...Flonne!"

With fluid motion, Laharl grabbed her by the throat with one hand and pinned her against the wall, her feet dangling in mid-air. However, something in him urged him not to hold on too tightly. As angry as he was, he didn't want the fallen angel to suffocate.

"Give me that brooch!" he growled.

"I hate you! I hate all of you!!" she screamed.

"Oh, that cuts it!" Laharl fumed. "Hand it over! NOW!"

She continued to struggled against his grip, kicking and flailing. In the back of his mind, the Overlord knew that if this kept up, Flonne had a good chance of breaking her own neck. He decided to end this.

The demon king continued to hold her with his one hand, while the other reached forward to rip the brooch away from her. However, as his skin was about to make contact with the gleaming gem, a piercingly bright light suddenly radiated outwards, surrounding the accessory completely. Laharl noticed Flonne lurch and paused, watching her expression change from hatred to extreme agony.

There was a saying he remembered; something about true pain being mute. This would definitely fit the situation. Her face was drained of color, and every muscle, every fiber of her consciousness seemed to be tense and charged with this energy. Her heart had ceased to beat, and yet she was still inexplicably alive.

Laharl dared to extend his reach closer, but found it difficult to push through the barrier the brooch had put up. But every inch seemed to be killing her. Her mouth motioned without sound, her muscles spasmed, and it looked like she was trying to scream, but couldn't.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow this to continue," said a voice suddenly right behind Laharl's ear.

"Prince!" Etna cried. "Behind you!"

The Overlord was aware of the shadow lurking behind him. He snarled, letting Flonne drop harmlessly to the floor as he wheeled to face his opponent. However, there was a problematic circumstance in this set-up: Laharl had dropped the Cosmic Blade when he rushed the fallen angel. Now, Etna was waving it around.

"Catch!" she yelled, hurling it hilt first at him.

Laharl caught it with ease. In an instant, he had the point of his blade pointing up at the shadow's throat.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded harshly. He glanced at Flonne out of the corner of his eye, and saw that she was lying very still on the floor like a broken doll. Fear crawled in his stomach--for a moment, he thought he had accidentally killed her. But slowly, he saw a tremor run through her slender body. She was alive...for now.

Laharl turned back to his opponent.

"Answer me!"

"I didn't change her in any way. I only brought a part of her to the surface...one that the Seraph has been trying to smother...to keep dormant, so to speak."

The demon king raised an eyebrow. "The Seraph?" he muttered. So, Celestia was somehow mixed up in all of this. Things certainly were getting interesting...but not surprising considering the cunning of the ruler of heaven. "That bastard is giong to get a piece of my sword if he doesn't have a decent explaination for all of this."

"Don't bother," the shadow replied with a chuckle. "When all is said and done, my Master will destroy heaven and its Seraph. And then the human race will fall, as it should have done ages ago. But don't worry," he added. "I know that Master will take good care of Yuri."

"Her name," Laharl said coldly, "is Flonne."

"Ask the Seraph. Either way, you'll find out the truth eventually when Yuri is fully awake."

Suddenly, Etna let out a cry of shock. "Flonne-chan!!"

Laharl turned so quickly he could hear the joints cracking in his neck. The demon girl was kneeling on the floor next to Flonne, who was lying on her back and thrashing wildly. He could see a bead a icy-blue light slicing the darkness that almost blinded him from everything else.

But what he could see was blood...lots of blood...seeping into a puddle around the fallen angel.

"Flonne!!" he screamed.

"I see my work here is finished," the shadow said evenly. "With that, I bid thee adieu...Yuri-chan. The Azure Spiral is waiting for you, child."

Laharl was torn as he saw his enemy slither through the wall and vanish into the night. "Come back here!!"

"Prince!! These wounds aren't healing! I can't stop the bleeding!!"

"Oh, dammit!" he snapped. Stabbing his sword into the ground, Laharl turned and ran to the two girls. He elbowed his way past the crowd of prinnies who were huddling close to get a look at the curious sight, and finally found himself kneeling beside Flonne. As he gazed down at the extent of her wound, he felt his stomach turn over.

The brooch was glowing dimmer now, but somehow it had enough magic to burrow its way into the fallen angel's chest. She whimpered vaguely as Laharl gently traced his fingers in a circle around the hole. But as he gingerly reached forward to touch it, a scream rent her throat. "Don't!! Don't touch it!!"

"Shhh..." he hissed, carefully picking up Flonne's head and laying it on his lap. "I won't touch it. Just stay with me, Love Freak..."

He looked into her face and saw that her eyes had returned to their normal shade of red. "La...Laharl..." she croaked. "It hurts..."

"Shut up, I said," he chided quietly. "Let me look."

"Don't..." she pleaded weakly. "Don't touch it!"

"Prince..." Etna said, her voice shaking. "I don't think she'll make it."

"Shut up!" Laharl screamed. "I need to think."

Almost as if in answer to his prayers, the gem began to glow again, bathing Flonne in a less sinister shade of blue. To the utter astonishment of the demon king and his most loyal vassal, the flow of blood began to ebb away--and warmth was beginning to return to her fingers. They could only watch as the wound gradually began to close. Eventually, a new set of skin sealed itself over the brooch, leaving it trapped in her chest cavity. Flonne's breathing became less labored, and her eyes fluttered.

"I'm...so sleepy..." she whispered. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to close shut, and a warm smile drifted onto her face. "The lilies..."

"She's delirious," said Etna.

Laharl moved her gently, trying to keep her awake without re-opening her wound. "Flonne, you have to open your eyes!" He was worried that the extent of her wound might cause her to go into shock.

Etna was taking her pulse. "Hey, Prince. Let's get the healers to look at her."

The Overlord didn't reply, but promptly reached out with his cape and caught the nearest prinny. It cried out in terror.

"Put me down, dood! I didn't do it, I swear, dood!!"

"Shut up," saidLaharl, "and listen, or I'll kill you. I want you to go find Delyffe and tell her that there's a medical emergency in the Overlord's chambers. She should be hanging around the medical wing--I know she likes to find new subjects to expand her knowledge of healing."

"Not her, dood!"

Laharl tightened his gripon the prinny. "Yes, her. If she's uncooperative, tell her that I have an interesting case here for her."

With that, he threw the prinny towards the door and turned back to the fallen angel nestled in his arms. She was breathing peacefully, her expression tranquil as she slept. Absent-mindedly, he wove his fingers through her long golden hair, his crimson eyes watching her like a hawk.

"Delyffe is insane, you know," said Etna quietly.

"Yeah, but she's quite...inventive with her cures. If she can't save Flonne..." he trailed off, not wanting to acknowledge that possibility.

As both fell silent, the very shadows seemed to mock them.It was all they coulddo to wait helplessly in the dark for the healer to arrive.But as the seconds passed fruitlessly and the numbing silence weighed on them heavily, Laharl swore deep within his heartthat he wouldhave his vengeance.

No one would escape unscathed.


	11. The Suspicious Circumstances

**Disclaimer: You know what? Maybe I do own Nippon Icchi games! What are you going to do about it, huh? I mean, if I happen to go out and buy a Nippon Icchi game, that technically means that I own it, right? Right??? **

**Yeah, who am I kidding? Thanks for everyone who reviewed. I'm actually a bit stunned right now--I got more reviews for the last chapter than I did for any other chapter I wrote so far. I guess it means I'm on the right track? Yes? No?**

**Oh, well. Here's the next chapter:**

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Chapter Ten: The Suspicious Circumstances

Hours had passed since the fight in the Overlord's chambers. The wall was still crumbling where the invader had broken through. No one had bothered to fix it; or at the very least, Laharl hadn't given it any thought. Walls fell down in his castle all the time. It was an expected liability considering how many morons challenged him on the daily basis.

The only thing Laharl bothered to do was to make sure that a certain pendant that he bought for Flonne was still safe. He waited until Etna had certainly left the room and rummaged through his pillow case. His search did not go unrewarded. As he turned the pillow on its side, a golden chain went slithering onto the mattress, the gleaming gems sparkling in the light. Laharl frowned before tucking it into his pocket.

There were too many things weighing on his mind. For one thing, Flonne was still grievously injured. For another, someone had tried to kill him--someone who too much of a connection or interest in the fallen angel for his personal liking. It made him uneasy as he thought of how that monster had controlled Flonne like a puppet, forcing her to look him in the face, and then...and then...

_What the hell happened back there, anyway?_ Laharl wondered as he loitered outside of the medical wing. _What made Flonne go freaking nuts like that?_

It was as though she had been possessed or something--but the Overlord honestly didn't know enough about ghosts and spirits to be able to make that claim. All he knew was that whatever had compelled Flonne to act that way, she wasn't being controlled. When the attacker made her approach him, her movements were shaky and unprecise--but when Flonne attacked Laharl, every motion was fluid and lethally accurate. And when Flonne was under his control, she still had some control over her own voice. But the things she said when she was fighting against him were uncharacteristically cruel.

No, Flonne had been acting on her own. But what made her act that way?

Laharl frowned. And then there was that comment his enemy made about Celestia and Lamington. What ties did he have with the Seraph?

To say the least, it certainly pissed him off that there was yet another interdimensional plot unfurling right under his nose involving Heaven. Despite the fact that Laharl never seemed to care much for the state of peace between the Netherworld and Celestia, it certainly bothered him that the Seraph didn't seem to either. Didn't Flonne say that Lamington was entirely trustworthy? Didn't she always believe in him to the very end?

And didn't he end up killing her? And doesn't he keep lying to her again and again and again?

Laharl didn't realize how tightly he was gripping the hilt of his sword as his anger peaked. _That stupid Love Freak,_ he thought, mentally wringing his hands in frustration. _She trusts everyone too easy. And the one person she trusts the most...the one person she would trust unconditionally and without hesitation...doesn't she realize how much he lies to her?!?_

Even when Flonne was about to be turned into a lily, even then she trusted the Seraph!

Laharl couldn't suppress his resentment over the memory as he stormed down the hallway, heading straight to the medical wing...

* * *

_Laharl stared dumbfounded at the azure ribbon that had snaked around his wrist. That, and the pendant trapped in his fist, were the only bits of Flonne that were left, now. Before him stood a small, pure white lily, its leaves basking magnificently in the morning light. So beautiful, so sad…_

_"So cruel…" Etna whispered, trying to hold back tears. "Something like this is unforgivable!"_

_Laharl couldn't speak. All of his heart, and his voice had left him when Flonne did. He refused to look at Etna, or at the Seraph, or at the filthy little toad that was croaking beneath Vulcanus's robes, or even at the lily that used to be the angel assassin. He couldn't look at anything except for his hands, which held the two treasures he now held dearer than his own life. They were both Flonne's treasures, her epitath and tombstone. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, Lamington broke the silence._

_"Laharl-dono," he said in that infuriatingly calm voice of his. "Do you also hate me?"_

_Such a simple question…so unbearably simple…as simple as it was for him to wave Flonne in front of him like a beacon of hope, of destiny, before snatching it away again. It was indeed too cruel for words._

_"Hate you?" he repeated._

_Laharl felt like a dog who had been baited with a scrap of meat from the table by a sadistic master. He had been taken in like a fool, and he had lost the one thing that meant as much to him as his own mother...perhaps even more. _

_White hot anger flooded him. This man, who called himself the Seraph and played God to so many helpless people, moving them about like pawns in his twisted game…he didn't give a damn about Flonne at all. So much was clear in the simplicity of his actions and words. And suddenly, Laharl couldn't stand it anymore._

_He rose unsteadily to his feet, like a man in a dream._

_"How…" he murmured, raising the trembling fist that held Flonne's ribbon. "How…How could you say such things?!" _

_Lamington said nothing, just watched the blinding rage pour over the demon king. That only served to stoke the flames. Wavelengths of a lethal energy suddenly pulsed from Laharl's body, as if all of his anger and grief were bursting to get free. An evil power was flowing in his veins, throbbing in the air as it destroyed pillars, tore up beautiful tapestries and carpets, destroyed the peaceful landscape of Heaven that was so much like the Seraph's smile…so tranquil and fake! Laharl wanted to smash that expression into a thousand little shards and stomp on them until there was nothing left._

_This was the power of love. It had destroyed everything, ruined Laharl's life. And now he was determined to make the scenery match the chaos he was feeling inside._

_"What's love?!" he snarled. "What's justice?! I don't understand your rules, you bastard!"_

_His body became consumed in purplish-red flames. From a distance, he could see Etna frantically shielding the lily with her body, shielding it from his wrath. As though it would do any good. Nothing would ever bring Flonne back. Nothing._

_Not even killing the Seraph would bring the angel back to him. At first, he was too consumed in his grief and anger to care. Lamington continued to regard him calmly, and that brought him to the edge of his self-control._

_"What I hate most of all is that annoyingly fake smile of yours!" Laharl reached beneath his cape, which was flapping madly in the breeze, and pulled his Cosmic Blade from its hidden sheath. Gripping it tightly in his shaking hands, he raced forward to end that smile once and for all. He would break the Seraph, and kill him for being the manipulative bastard that he was._

_"This is my punishment for putting you through this trial," he said unwaveringly. "I'll accept it willingly."_

_Laharl drew closer, but the bloody task before him had lost all meaning._

_Nothing would bring Flonne back. More killing would only serve to taint the gaping wound in his heart. The power of hate was meaningless now—it only destroyed. It only took lives away. Hate couldn't bring back the people he loved._

_Laharl couldn't even deny it anymore. Love existed all right. It had thrown his world through a loop. It had given his life meaning; it also took away his reason for living. All at once, the King of the Netherworld knew what he had to do._

_And he wanted to do it quick before anyone tried to stand in his way._

_The dark energy gradually faded into nothingness. Laharl's sword hung only inches from the Seraph face—which, Laharl was pleased to see, was no longer calm and omniscient, but filled with confusion. If Flonne were still alive to see it, he probably would have gloated. But nothing mattered anymore. There was only one clear path left for him._

_He turned away from the Seraph._

_"Prince?"_

_"I'm not doing it," he replied, before Etna could even get the question out of her mouth. With a final gesture of resignation, he thrust his sword into the ground. Behind him, the Seraph sank back in exhaustion and bemusement._

_"Even if I do this now," he explained, "there's no meaning to it. Besides," he muttered, his eyes shut tight. It took all of his inner strength to let them open again, and this time they were filled with tears. "If that love freak was here, she would've stopped me."_

_Etna's eyes were filled with sadness._

_"Your Highness…"_

_"Flonne…" said Laharl softly, feeling the tears fall, and watching them collide with those beautiful white petals. He held his open palms before him and stared at them, as though he were looking at himself for the first time. It was as though he finally understood who he was. "Is this…the love you were talking about?" He hastily rubbed his eyes with his fist, unwilling to let any more tears escape._

_"If this is love, I'll never admit to a thing like love!" he screamed._

_From a great distance, the Seraph watched Laharl carefully, intelligence flickering in those grey eyes of his. But Laharl didn't see a thing. He was a bit preoccupied._

_"Etna," he said. The demon girl looked up, startled—just in time to catch the book Laharl had tossed at her. She looked at it closely. It was the Demon Writing. Did this mean--? "Y-your Highness!"_

_"This is the ending you have chosen?" Lamington enquired. Laharl didn't even pay him a second glance. He was tired of the Seraph—he never wanted to see his stupid face again. If only he could see Flonne one last time, though. He would have given anything for that..._

_…even his own life._

_"I'll leave the rest to you," he continued, keeping his gaze on Etna. With his free hand, he gripped his sword again and ripped it from the ground with a certainty that alarmed her._

_"No, Your Highness!"_

_"Don't get in my way!" he snarled, breaking free from Etna's grip and raising his sword in the air. Instantly, it became consumed with a bright, golden light. It was the power of love. He could hear Etna crying out in confusion, he could see Mid-Boss suddenly appearing and trying to interfere—the nuisance—and a demonic smile rose on his face like the rising sun._

_"This is good-bye," he said as the light washed over him. When it finally faded, the demon king was gone. _

_But in his place sat a very confused Flonne, whose angelic features had been replaced with bat wings and an elusive demon tail. Her blue ribbons had turned crimson, the exact same shade of Laharl's eyes—though no one noticed that at first. Flonne looked at the stunned faces surrounding her, then cocked her head and flashed a tentative, yet altogether mischievous smile._

_From above, Laharl saw her beautiful face and smiled too. Then, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fade away into the next world. He swore to himself that he would return to her…one day…

* * *

_

The fact that it had been Lamington who gave Laharl his body back only rubbed salt into the bitter wound--made a mockery of everything he suffered. In the Overlord's eyes, the "act of generosity" (as Flonne would have described it) was only yet another reminder of how much stronger, more powerful and more cunning the Seraph was. He rubbed it in Laharl's face, subtley hinted that everything he was able to give could also quickly, easily, and immediately taken away.

Seraph Lamington had taken Flonne away from him once. If Laharl hadn't taken her back, he would have lost her forever. That was something he could never forgive.

He had to sacrifice his life to save her. Lamington made him degrade himself by living the existence of a downtrodden prinny to reassert his own dominance. Laharl couldn't forgive that either.

So naturally, when he found out that Lamington was most likely involved in a plot against his life--one that dragged Flonne in the middle of everything and made her suffer in ways even Laharl was ignorant of--he was all set to kill him, no questions asked. It was only for the fallen angel's sake that he was behaving rationally. Not that he would have admitted it to anyone...

In any case, he had to find out what was going on--and to do that, he had to interrogate Flonne.

Laharl stormed into the healing facility, scanning all of the beds until his keen eyes spotted one area in the far area that had been curtained off from the rest of the occupants. He paused to raise a wry eyebrow. "That has to be Delyffe," he muttered. "God, is she paranoid."

Without warning, a cage suddenly came plummeting from the ceiling, trapping the Overlord behind its bars. Laharl gave a start. "What the--?! DELYFFE!!!!"

"Fu fu fu...trying to steal my research, are we?" came a voice from behind the curtain. It opened a fraction of an inch, and Laharl found himself glaring at the face that smirked out at him. He was staring into a pair of sightless yet maniacal blue eyes.

"Delyffe, you have ten seconds to let me out of here before I kill you."

The face clicked her tongue . "Now that couldn't be Laharl-sama? Why would his highness be....ah...gracing me with his prescence on this find afternoon?"

"Just open the damn cage!!!"

She frowned. "Impatient as always. But then, how do I know you aren't an imposter? This is a very unique case I'm working on right now...very puzzling indeed..."

Laharl, who had been about to summon a meteorite out of spite, was suddenly distracted. "What? You mean Flonne?" he said before he could stop himself. A hot flush crossed his cheeks in embarrassment as he hastily tried to look indifferent. "Er...I mean, did you figure out what's wrong with that Love Freak yet?"

Delyffe smiled--it was terrifying. "It _is _you, King Laharl. Well, I guess I can let you out..."

As soon as the words were spoken, the cage floated back up into the ceiling and disappeared behind the trap door in the stone. Laharl stared up at it for a moment, wondering when he had ever given the healer the authority to install traps in the hospital. But that wasn't important right now.

Shaking himself mentally, Laharl strode over to the curtains and ripped them open. Inside he saw Flonne lying fast asleep on the bed, her entire chest wrapped neatly in bandages. Etna was sitting by the window sill, looking out the window in a bored manner while Delyffe bustled around, making notes on her clipboard and occasionally snapping at her prinny subordinates. Laharl sat down in the nearest chair and glowered broodingly in the corner, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Well?" he demanded. "Aren't you going to tell me anything?"

Etna looked up. "What's there to tell?" she asked. "Every time Delyffe tries to surgically open the wound to get the brooch out, this barrier forms and she gets her hands burned. Then it just closes back up again. It's hopeless."

"I WILL find a way," Delyffe muttered, looking almost deranged as she eyed her bandaged hands. "Even if it means I won't be able to hold a scalpel for the next six months! This is the biggest medical mystery since that prinny that was belching fire!"

Laharl ignored this. "Isn't that Love Freak awake yet?"

"Aw," said Etna, grinning like a cat. "Does the Prince miss his Flonne?"

His face went red with anger. "S-shut up! I have some questions to ask her about that brooch..." Glaring at the wall, he added. "The way I see it, there's no way that the thing with the brooch wasn't planned by the invader. In fact, I think it was that the person who attacked us was that asswhole guy that Flonne was hanging around before."

"They look nothing alike," she said, frowning. "That Vlanaar guy was cute. But this guy was just creepy...like a shadow."

"Dammit! That doesn't matter!" Laharl snapped. "He gave Flonne the brooch! And it was powerful from the very beginning! I remember sensing a strange power inside of it when I held it in my hands..."

Etna raised an eyebrow. "And...you just let Flonne have it? Are you stupid or something, Prince?"

Enraged, the Overlord rose threateningly out of his chair. "She was being a bitch about it! It was her fault, not mine!!!" Fuming, he turned his back on her. "She was the one who went and got herself a freaking boyfriend...I had nothing to do with it..."

The demon girl looked a little mad now. "Oh, I get it. You were being a jealous idiot, so you decided to let Flonne run around with a dangerous magical relic as a form of payback. You know, Prince, you really take the cake for stupid on this one."

"I wasn't jealous!!!" he snarled, "And I sure as hell didn't know it was dangerous! I just thought it was weird that he would give her something with such a pronounced magical aura, that's all. It could have been a freaking wart-remover for all I knew!" Then, a thought occured to him. "I wonder what that thing's item world is like..."

"Stuuuuuupid," said Etna in a sing-song voice.

"SHUT UP!!!" Laharl screamed.

Suddenly, he heard a small moan coming from the direction of the bed. Turning, he saw that Flonne had stirred, her brow knit in discomfort as she tried to turn over onto her side. She must have moved the wrong way because she hissed with pain and she made a fierce grimace. "Ow..." she murmured.

"Flonne!" he exclaimed. "Dammit, get out of my way!" he barked, shoving a couple of prinnies out of his way as he stalked over to her bedside. Delyffe and Etna both watched him, their faces wearing twin expressions of amusement, but Laharl didn't see them. He could only see the fallen angel struggling beneath the sheets, looking pale and uncomfortable.

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, forcing her back into her original position. "Stop that!" he snapped. "Do you want another hole in your chest, you moron?"

Flonne opened her eyes feebly. "Laharl?" she whispered. "My throat hurts..."

Laharl narrowed his eyes at her. "You have a freaking jewelery item lodged in your chest, and you're complaining about a sore throat? You really are stupid..." he muttered, moving her hair out of her face. He noticed how she seemed to freeze as his fingers grazed her skin, how flushed her face had become. Internally, he smirked. "Stupid, Love Freak."

"What..." she swallowed. "What happened...to me?"

"You mean, you don't remember anything?" Etna said, looking incredulous. "You went completely psycho!"

Flonne frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" Suddenly, she looked scared. "What did I do?"

Etna opened her mouth to reply when she was suddenly interrupted by Laharl.

"That doesn't matter right now. I have some questions for you, and you better have some adequate answers for me, Flonne."

She looked upset. "Laharl, what did I do??? What's going on???"

"Shut up!" he snapped. "I'm the one asking the questions, so just shut up and listen. First of all, I want to know how long you've known that...Vlanaar guy...and don't lie to me!"

Flonne laid her head back weakly against the pillow as she tried to remember. "Vlanaar...? I...only today...I think...how long have I been asleep?"

"Only six hours," Etna replied. "So it was only for a day."

Laharl felt his temper rising. "I send you out to get me some food, and you end up on a freaking date with some stranger that you only just met?!"

Flonne and Etna both flinched. "Hey, Prince! Calm down!" the demon girl cried, holding up her hands defensively.

His energy pulsed, and everyone held their breath. But to their surprise, the Overlord actually started rubbing his temples, as though trying to shrug it all off. It took two minutes for him to keep himself from blowing up at them. Nonetheless, a familiar vein throbbed in his forehead as he muttered:

"Never mind...tch. It's not like it matters, anyway. Why should I care what you do?" He glared at her. "All I care about is whether or not that asswhole was the one who attacked the castle."

Flonne looked shocked. "But why would he do that? Vlanaar-san seemed so nice..."

"NICE?! He gave you a piece of jewelery that possessed you, made you attack us, and burrowed into your chest so it couldn't be destroyed! You call that NICE?!?"

She tried to sit up, looking much more alert. But the effort was too much for her. Flonne could only gasp, "I attacked you?!" before falling back again, gritting her teeth in pain. "Did I hurt anyone???" she asked quietly.

"Hmmph," Laharl folded his arms. "Hardly. A weakling like you couldn't put a scratch on me. It was a poorly planned assassination...which reminds me," he looked back at Flonne, suddenly very intent. "Did Vlanaar ever...I dunno, mention Celestia at all? Or the Seraph?"

Flonne's eyes went wide. "How did you know that?" she breathed.

He side-stepped the question. "What did he say specifically?"

She hesitated. "I don't remember everything too clearly...but I do know that Vlanaar called himself a mercenary...only his job is to find rare items in the different Netherworlds for his clients. He told me that the only place he hasn't been to is Celestia. In fact, he seemed very upset about it."

Laharl swallowed. "Did he...know that you were from Celestia?"

"Yes..." she frowned. "In fact, he knew right away from looking at me...he said it was clear that I didn't belong in the Netherworld--that I was..." she blushed, "...too sweet and polite to be a real demon. He just kept asking me questions about my life back in Celestia...but it seemed like he was more interested in me than he was in Celestia itself--even if he did get all angry at Lamington-sama."

This alarmed him. "Didn't you find that weird at all?"

"Well...a little bit, I guess. He was kind of scary...but so smooth and generous. He was like a prince!"

Laharl glared at her. "Get that story-book crap out of your head! Idiot..." he shook his head in disdain. "How much did he know about you, Flonne?"

"Well..." she said slowly. "He said that he'd heard a rumor that a fallen angel was working for the Overlord of this Netherworld, and when he saw me, he said he knew right away that it was probably me. Vlanaar seemed to deduce things really easily."

"Did he mention me at all?"

"You?" Flonne blinked. "No. He didn't."

This surprised Laharl. If this guy really was planning on assassinating him, wouldn't it make more sense to get as much information on his target as possible? And he had a loyal and very gullible vassal sitting right in front of him! If there was anyone who was naive enough to put Laharl into potentially mortal danger, it would be Flonne, hands down.

Still, he didn't like how closely tied Vlanaar was to Flonne. And Laharl was almost dead certain that he was behind the attack.

"Prince?" Etna said, noticing the pensive expression on his face. "What--?"

"Quit your yapping," he said curtly. "And go pack your things...and Flonne's too. We're going to Celestia!"

**A/N: And there you have it. Laharl's playing the detective, and is going to go confront the Seraph! What will await him in Celestia? What secrets will be revealed? And how will it impact Flonne?**

**Yeah, I just love leaving little teasers. Tee hee...**

**Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please review...please? Pretty please with sugar on top??? --Makes puppy-dog face-- PLEASE?!?!?!?**


	12. Before It Gets Too Cold

**Disclaimer: I've officially run out of creative ways to say that I don't own Disgaea. Besides, I don't think anyone actually reads the disclaimer. It would probably be a better idea to allocate all of those creative juices for the actual story. **

**And now, without further ado, here's the next chapter of Secrets from the Grey Area!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Before It Gets Too Cold**

Laharl was in a bad mood when he, Etna, and Flonne finally set out from the Overlord's castle three days later. He had wanted to leave within a few hours of announcing his imminent journey to Celestia, but the preparations for the departure itself set him back at least a day. And then there was the problematic fact that Flonne was still in a fragile state.

Despite Delyffe's persistent efforts to remove the brooch, she finally had to concede defeat in order to meet the time restraints the Overlord placed on her. Instead, she focused on minimalizing the complications of the injury--it took multiple healing spells, a repeated change in bandaging, and a number of other self-invented remedies of Delyffe's design in order to get Flonne back on her feet. Even after the treatments, the fallen angel still felt a perpetual numbness in her chest, and sometimes her body temperature dropped so much that it threatened to give her hypothermia. Delyffe suspected that it was the result of one of the gem's magical properties--a sort of self-preservation tactic.

Flonne was supposed to be drinking a steaming cup of herbal tea every hour, and the rest of the time she was weighed down in a number of layers of clothing to keep warm. It didn't help much--she always felt like she had a chill now, but at least she wouldn't die. Not yet, anyway.

And now, as the prinnies began loading up the ship--yes, the very same ship that Gordon and Jennifer had given to Laharl after he had signed the "peace treaty" with the human race--Flonne sat by the boiler on board, watching Laharl barking orders, looking particularly murderous. _I wonder why he's so angry_, she thought. _This isn't Laharl's usual grumpiness..._

Suddenly, as though sensing her bemused thoughts, Laharl wheeled around and glared at Flonne. The fallen angel jumped, looking very much like a guilty suspect in a police line-up.

"What are you staring at, Love Freak?" he snapped. "Mind your own business and drink your damn tea before it gets cold."

He turned away and did not speak to her again. Flonne thought it was probably for the best. At least this way he couldn't see the faint blush on her cheeks as she took another tentative sip of the bitter substance in her mug. She made a face. "This tastes horrible..." she sighed.

"Don't let Delyffe hear you say that," Etna warned her, suddenly appearing from the cargo hold. "She's been waiting on the edge of her chair for another excuse to dissect you, I hear."

Flonne winced. _Why couldn't have Laharl have made her stay home?_

The demon girl noticed her expression and accepted it as the perfect opportunity to slack off. She sat down beside her, eying the smoking concoction in the fallen angel's hands as though it might suddenly blow up in her face. "You know," she said, leaning back in her chair, "the Prince is only letting her tag along because you're still sick, and you still need someone to take care of you. He's probably just worried because not even Delyffe can figure out how to fix you."

Flonne frowned. Yes, she had expected Laharl to try to sneak off on his own. It really surprised her when he absolutely insisted on her accompanying him.

"He probably would have made you both stay home," Etna continued, unaware that she had practically read the fallen angel's mind, "but you've been really...unstable."

Her frown deepened. "I don't remember anything that happened that night, Etna," she said sadly. "I still don't even understand why we're even going to Celestia."

"Well," the demon girl replied vaguely, "maybe he's trying to find a healer in Celestia who can save you..." Without warning, she froze like a prinny that had been caught stealing food from the Overlord's table. "Crap!" she gasped.

Flonne looked up in alarm. "What?"

Etna pointed towards the door, a panicky expression on her face. That wasn't a good sign. It usually took a lot to make such a cunning beauty queen lose her cool. Curiously, the fallen angel followed the direction of her gaze.

Standing on the threshold was Delyffe. She wore a look of unnerving calm on her face as the two girls eyed her nervously. But they could both see that her hands were trembling with rage and agitation.

"She heard you..." Flonne whispered.

"I hear everything," said Delyffe, startling them from their private conversation. "It's one of the best things about being blind--the world becomes your own personal radio."

"I...er...gotta go," Etna hastily excused herself, practically leaping out of her chair and running for the cargo hold. Flonne looked frightened, and held out a hand in a feeble attempt to stop her. However, her attempts at sudden movement caused her to crumple in pain. "No! Etna, please! Don't leave me here!!!"

It also didn't help that Delyffe had grabbed her and practically wrestled her back into her chair. "Now, Miss Flonne," she said dangerously, her face tightening into a mask of excitement. "We can't have you overexerting yourself before surgery, can we?"

All of the color had drained from Flonne's face. "Have mercy..."

"Mercy is for the weak!" Delyffe screamed, abandoning her facade of tranquility. "Dammit! No angel med-school drop-out is going to steal away MY discovery from right under my nose!!! Not now, not ever!"

"Hey, cut it out!" Laharl snarled, turning around suddenly. "Don't forget, she isn't your personal lab-rat! If I find that you've cut her open without my consent, I'll freaking murder you!"

"Laharl..." Flonne murmured, looking relieved.

"If you want to operate on her after I deal with the Seraph, that's fine," he continued as though there hadn't been any interruption. "But I'm not having any of your damn horse-play until after I get what I want."

The fallen angel only had time to utter one feeble, "Oh..." before slumping over in a dead faint.

Laharl eyed her wilted form and sighed. "Damn..." he grumbled. "Oh, well. I guess it can't be helped." He looked up at Delyffe. "Get a bed made for her, will you? And make sure she has as many hot water bottles she needs to keep from freezing to death. We are going to Heaven, you know. The last thing I need is for that idiot to die."

Delyffe looked disappointed. "Yes, sire."

She reached over to pick up Flonne, but her hand froze as Laharl's Cosmic Blade suddenly chopped through the air, barely missing her limb. Even though Delyffe was blind, she could sense the whirring of the edge of the sword as it sliced through space. The feeling made her hair practically stand on end.

"I _said_ to make her a bed!" he said warningly. "Can't you follow orders?"

All she had to do was hear the death threat in his tone to realize that now wasn't the time to disobey. She bowed before stalking off to carry out his instructions. Laharl could hear her muttering angrily under her breath until the door closed shut behind her.

Laharl glared down at Flonne. "Moron," he muttered, not bothering to clarify who he was talking about. Absent-mindedly, he reached out and took her chin in his hand, turning her face from side to side and examining her features. _She's gotten paler_, he thought. _It's like she loses more and more color every day. She's starting to look like one of those damn lilies she likes so much..._

He shuddered internally.

"Hurry up, will you?" he yelled, withdrawing his hand as though it had been burned. "I haven't got all day!"

"It's done," Delyffe snapped, reappearing in the doorway. She moved to get Flonne, but Laharl had already scooped her up into her arms. The Overlord sniffed disdainfully as he carried her past the healer, only pausing to mutter, "Don't bother. You're too slow."

Her jaw dropped, but Laharl ignored this.

"And tell those damn prinnies to get the engines running, pronto! I want this piece of junk flying towards Celestia within ten minutes, or I'll turn the whole lot of you into ashes!"

* * *

Ozonne practically busted the door off its hinges as she came into the house. "Dammit!!!" she screamed, storming up the stairs and into her room. "I hate that damn Seraph Lamington!!!!"

Wasting no time, she went to her closet and began rummaging around through it. Every five seconds or so, she would mutter a harsh phrase or two and throw something at the wall behind her. Clothes, shoes, books, and a number of other miscellaneous items went flying hap-hazardly over her shoulder, and within five minutes there was a large pile of jumk littering the floor.

From downstairs, Erl glanced up from her cooking and sighed to herself. She could hear Ozonne screaming and stomping around all the way in the kitchen--and in all honesty, who couldn't hear the incensed angel? She was like a tornado--you could always see one of her tantrums coming by the gloomy and dark expression that took hold of her, the calm before the storm. Then, all of a sudden she was all fury. Erl's daughter was too hot-tempered for her own good.

Part of her had hoped that she would meet a nice young man who would, perhaps, calm her unruly spirit...even a little bit. Unfortunately, all of the young eligible men were practically terrified of Ozonne. But at least she had a circle of friends--people who could see her redeemable qualities, such as her unfaulting courage, loyalty, and dedication to whatever she did. Some people might call that stubborness, but...

Erl flinched as she heard something shattering upstairs. That was her cue to investigate.

"Ozonne?" she called, standing at the foot of the stairs. "Is everything all right up there?"

There was no answer. Only fuming. Sighing again, Erl gripped the banister tightly and began trudging up the stairs. She knew that it would only get worse if she let her carry on the way she was doing.

"Ozonne," she said firmly, stepping inside her room. "What in the name of Celestia is happening in here?"

The angel found what she was looking for at the bottom of her closet. Ignoring her mother, she pulled out her ruck-sac and laid it flat on her bed. Erl watched in foreboding as her daughter began stuffing clothes and spell books inside of it.

"I'm going to get Flonne," Ozonne snapped, conscious of her mother's curiousity. "One way or another, I'm bringing her home right now!"

Erl hesitated. She knew that Ozonne had gone to see Seraph Lamington to ask for his blessing so she could go to the Netherworld--though by the looks of it, things probably didn't go so well.

"And did the Seraph authorize this?"

Ozonne sniffed angrily. "It doesn't matter. I'm going!" She grabbed her staff and adjusted her bandana before turning towards the door, her ruck-sac in hand. "Right. I'm ready now."

"Oh, no you're not," Erl said shortly. "Without Lamington-sama's blessing, there's no way you'd be able to survive in the Netherworld. You know that."

"I'm only staying long enough to find Flonne and finish her mission for her," she replied, as if this were no big deal. "There's no way it should have taken this long to kill the Overlord. Flonne's probably taking her damn sweet time."

"It's a sin to curse, Ozonne. Now sit down and be reasonable!"

The angry girl, instead of being reasonable, brandished her staff towards the wall. Within seconds it became shrouded in a dazzling light.

"Wait! What are you do...IIIINNNNGG!!!!" Erl screamed as the sphere of light suddenly hurtled off of the staff and blew a hole in the wall. Hastily, she sheilding her eyes from the rubble and smoke swimming around in the air. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the silhouette of her daughter leaping out and grabbing onto a nearby tree branch.

"I'll bring her home!" she called over her shoulder. "You'll see, mom!"

"Ozonne!"

But it was too late. Ozonne had already disappeared in the busy city streets below. But from what little Erl could see in the hazy fog, she could guess that she was heading for the dimensional gates.

* * *

Laharl stood behind the railing, watching as the team of prinnies monitored the different panels of the ship. Dancing, flickering lights blinked rapidly across the screens, silent messengers announcing to the world where the Overlord stood--where his ship currently flew in time and space. His eyes narrowed. He did not savor the tale they all spoke of.

"What's taking so long?" he snapped.

From her perch beside one of the main gun turrets, Etna eyed Laharl with interest. "What did you expect? Celestia is far away. It's separated from the Netherworld by a great holy force. Don't you remember how long it took to get there the last time? And that was when Flonne was an angel."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Etna rolled her eyes. "Geez, Prince! Don't you know that you can't get into heaven without the prescence of an angel. At least...that's the way it seems to work. I don't really know too much about it." Her tail twisted in the air behind her, playing with one of her daggers. "I don't care, either."

"Don't act so cocky, then," he retorted. "You're not so high and mighty if you're ignorant too."

Inwardly, though, Laharl frowned. How would he get into Celestia now that Flonne was a demon? It was highly unlikely that Lamington would let them in if he knew that he had come to kill him. It was also unlikely that the Seraph did not know of Laharl's murderous intent.

"It doesn't matter," he said to no one in particular. "We'll get in somehow. I'll destroy anything that stands in my way."

"Whatever, Prince," said Etna. "Just keep me out of it. I'd rather stay alive if it's all the same to you."

"Shut up," he snapped. "Make sure the prinnies stay on course while I go take a nap, okay? I'm not in the mood for any more screw-ups."

Laharl stomped out of the main control room and down the hallway leading down into his private quarters. As he treked down a flight of stairs, the tense expression on his face became increasingly more and more pensive. _Now that Flonne's a demon...I wonder how that's changed things. I wonder if they're still changing now...for the better? Or for the worse?_

His brow became creased with unease. _I won't let things get worse. I'll destroy anything or anyone who gets in the way of that._

Laharl pulled open the door to his room, but paused on the threshold. Looking inside, he saw that his bed was fully made, and that a certain fallen angel was tucked carefully in the sheets. A slight blush crossed his face as he quietly entered the room, noting how her golden hair spread out across his pillow. Her face was as pale as cold marble.

But she was fidgeting...no...shivering. Which was it?

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, which had been heated to the point where it was almost too much for him to bear. And it didn't seem anywhere near enough to keep Flonne from shaking with cold. Laharl laid a hand on her forehead. "Flonne," he murmured.

She stirred slightly. "Laharl..." she breathed. A small but blithe smile crossed her face. "Daisuki..."

He went very still. "Flonne..." he repeated, softer this time. A faintest hint of a grin crossed his features, but he did not pull his heand away. "Do you lie when you're dreaming? It's much more convincing if you do. Idiot." His smile deepened, his gaze almost affectionate. Yet it was also sad. "I wonder how much of a conscience you have left now that you're a demon."

Her eyes slowly slid open. "Laharl-san?"

"Go back to sleep," he told her.

"It's so cold," she whispered. "And I could have sworn that...did you say something before, Laharl?"

"No. And quit complaining."

Flonne hesitated.

"What is it?" Laharl asked tiredly.

"You won't...you won't really let Delyffe dissect me...right?"

He smirked. "Scared?"

"Yes. Very."

He rolled his eyes. "She won't cut you open unless she has to. And that'll only be when I say so, got it?"

She looked relieved. "Thank you."

Laharl jolted, a hot flush creeping across his face. "D-don't thank me, you idiot! I just don't want her making a mess of the ship!" He continued muttering a string of incoherent statements, causing his complexion to get redder and redder. But suddenly, Flonne reached out a hand from beneath the covers and laid it on his cheek, gazing deeply into his eyes, making him freeze. "Flonne...?"

"Laharl is truly a good person...whether he likes it or not."

He couldn't say a word. Her hand was so cold against his cheek.

Flonne closed her eyes and stroked his face, her finger resting on his lips; but it was trembling. Was it from the cold?

"I'm so sorry," she breathed. "You've been angry, and I...I don't understand anything that's been happening..." Her eyes opened, and they were filled with sorrow. "Why are we even going to Celestia? What have I done? And why...? Why am I sick? Why aren't I getting better?"

He looked pained. "Idiot! Don't ask such stupid questions..." Hastily, he averted his gaze. "Didn't I tell you to go back to sleep?"

Flonne looked upset. "I'll sleep," she said softly. "If that's what you want, I'll sleep. But I can't promise that I'll rest." She smiled weakly. "I hate being sick, don't you, Laharl?"

His free hand clenched into a fist. Inadvertantly, his thoughts drifted to his own childhood illness that had prompted his mother to sacrifice her life for him. "Don't speak about such...stupid...useless things..." He grabbed the hand that rested against his lips. "These are things you wouldn't understand anyway."

Laharl leaned down, closer towards her face, his crimson eyes scrutinizing hers. Flonne went still as a pebble in a stream, absolutely motionless despite the current of emotions tossing it about. He noticed the faint pink tinge in her cheeks and realized it was a reaction to his closeness. Half-smirking, he allowed himself to close the gap between them, amused by her shock. Catching Flonne off guard was just...something he enjoyed doing.

But something made him frown again. "You're so cold...everything about you is changed somehow," he said quietly.

For some inexplicable reason, Flonne looked very afraid. "What...what do you mean?" she asked tremulously. "Why would you say that?"

Laharl paused. "Why do you sound so defensive, Love Freak?"

She looked away. Pain was etched on every feature of her pale face. "I don't know what's happening to me either. I'm scared."

He scowled at her. Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her face back so that she was forced to look at him again. "If you're scared, then forget it. But whatever the hell you do, stop being so cold! You haven't even given me one lecture on treating the prinnies with kindness since we left..."

"You hate my lectures..."

"That's true," he said gruffly.

_But I love you, a__nd it's all your fault, you stupid Love Freak. I'll never forgive you for that._

"Laharl," said Flonne. "What are you thinking about?"

He looked very uncomfortable. Should he tell her? "It's...it's..."

**WREEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! WREEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!**

Both of them jumped as the alarm suddenly started blaring through the ship's intercom. Laharl sat up straight as a pin and looked around warily. Red lights were flashing all along the hallway, indicating immediate danger.

"Laharl?" said the fallen angel uncertainly, having trouble making her voice heard over the discordant noise. "What...?"

"I said it's none of your business!!!" he snarled, jumping to his feet and pulling out his Cosmic Blade. "Now stay here!"

* * *

**A/N: And that's Chapter Eleven. It was a short one, I admit. Hell, it was probably just a filler chapter that ended in a cliff-hanger. What danger awaits our heroes...er...villains...er...central characters? You just can't define Laharl as a hero or a villain, can you?**

**I hope you enjoyed this almost pointless chapter. As always, please review. Thanks in advance!**


	13. Lethal Determination

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea.**

**I'm kind of tired today, so I'm just going to cut to the chase and start the next chapter. Thank you Rurubell, Love at Last Sight, Witch Girl Pilar, Overlord Tera, Naruhinafan2010, and Cosomo for reviewing the last chappie! I hope you all enjoy the next installment of Secrets From the Grey Area! As always, please RxR!**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Lethal Determination Gets Us No Where Fast**

The Red Moon--it's crimson light echoes across the sky, bathing the sinful in beautiful atonement, making them anew. From Planet X, a mysterious figure stood, looking up at this beautiful orb of redemption. He was filled with a sudden hope. As the light reached his face, it was clear who this stranger was: Vlanaar.

"Akai tsuki," he murmured. "Can you really do as you promise? Will my sins be erased...?"

His grey eyes looked imploringly at the sky. His thoughts drifted to that night, and he could see that brooch glowing in his mind's eye. He remembered the pain on her face as it dug itself into her flesh, the blood pouring from her wound. _She didn't die,_ he thought uneasily. _She's still alive...but...is this really for the best?_ He shook himself mentally, remembering everything he had to gain.

Vlanaar had no idea he was being watched. Right now, a certain angel was glaring at him from a distance, her staff in her hands and her rucksac slung over her shoulder. Her emerald bandana was stirred by a slight breeze, but it did nothing to cool her interest in the stranger standing on the cliff several yards away. She crouched behind the boulder, unseen.

Ozonne had tried to take a dimension gate directly to the Overlord's castle--where it was rumored that Flonne was supposed to be living. The girl had imagined something annoyingly stealthy on Flonne's part--like a long-term operation of planning and forethought while stowing away in the dungeons, waiting for the perfect moment to complete her mission. No one had ever filled her in on the somewhat important bit of information that King Krichevskoy had died quite some time ago. Though considering Ozonne's notorious track-record for shooting the messenger, this wasn't really a surprise to anyone.

Somehow, though, when she attempted to open the gate, something had gone wrong. Perhaps in her haste to get going she mis-uttered the incantation. Either way, she was now stranded on this desolate-looking planet with no one except a complete stranger--and a demon no less--to keep her company. Ozonne realized that she had jumped the gun once too many times--only a complete moron would have denied that. So she decided that the best course of action would be to keep a close eye on this demon, and to try to figure out where exactly she had wound up.

Ozonne couldn't help but notice his good-looks. Even in this light, there was something almost...reserved about him. The way he gazed longingly at the sky sparked an interest, even if he was only looking at the moon. It was very rare for Ozonne to actually be in the presence of a male who didn't instinctively make her want to knee him in the croch.

But the angel--while taken by his pleasant appearance--was also quite practical. Right now it didn't matter whether the man was drop-dead gorgeous or completely repulsive. She was going to get some answers.

Quietly, Ozonne crept closer, just enough to be within earshot, but too close so as to give herself away.

She watched silently as he lifted up his shirt and gazed down at his chest. Every detail was clear under the light of the Red Moon--a dark blue scar in the shape of a spiral traced over his pecs and abs, leaving an effect both disfiguring and entrancing. If one squinted at it long enough, it almost looked like it was swirling slowly on his flesh. It made her ember of an interest grow into a burning flame.

His eyes narrowed, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Damn them," he muttered. "Damn them all--both Lamington and the Azure Spires..."

Vlanaar let his shirt down again, his expression suddenly lonely and contemplative. Ozonne was also musing quietly to herself.

_This guy knows Seraph Lamington. That's really strange...I wonder why he would have anything to do with a demon? Even if he is really hot..._

"It's my only chance..." said Vlanaar, breaking the silence. "...Our only chance. I'm so sorry...Yuri."

Ozonne felt the sinking feeling of disappointment. "So, he has a girlfriend...that's a shame. God, I bet Flonne would have totally fallen for this dude, too. He looks like the kind of person who could stand to hear her love ramblings..." She said this to herself merely out of old habit. Since they were pre-teens, Ozonne had made it her personal goal to get Flonne a boyfriend. She also did not want to admit to herself that she was romantically interested in a demon.

Unbeknownst to her, Vlanaar was sorting through his thoughts...or trying to anyway.

He was extremely disconcerted about how easy it was for him to watch Yuri suffer that night. Now, after the battle was over and the shadow had faded, all he could feel was worry for the fallen angel, and remorse for having had to hurt her so badly. A deep part of him wished that he hadn't had to resort to using the brooch. After all, it was inevitable that Yuri would get her memory back. Whether it was a matter of days, weeks, or years was the only thing up in the air at this point.

_Maybe I shouldn't have just left her to remember on her own..._

But no. That wasn't an option. Without the brooch, even if Yuri did end up getting her memory back...

...well, Vlanaar didn't want to think about it. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on the Red Moon. And as he stood there, surrounded by the sheer emptiness of space, he formulated a silent prayer in his heart. One day, he hoped he could atone for this sin he was committing.

That was when Vlanaar caught sight of the rocket soaring thousands of feet in the air above him. His heart lurched unpleasantly. What were _they _doing here?

Ozonne followed the direction of his gaze and nearly fell over in surprise at the sight of the aircraft. ''Damn...!" she murmured, impressed against her will. She recognized the ship as being human-made, but other than that, she had no idea who could be flying it. _It could be a damn good solution as to getting off this freaking rock_, she thought to herself. The angel resolved to find a way on board that ship.

Vlanaar kept his eye on the ship as well, feeling a vague unease as he tried to figure out where it could be heading. He already had a nagging suspicion...but no. Not even King Laharl would be stupid enough to try to get into Celestia of all places; not with the holy barrier surrounding the country. He would meet certain death before he even came close to passing through. He started to relax, feeling utterly secure in his confidence that Laharl wouldn't...

His eyes narrowed. _I better not take up gambling at this rate,_ he thought wryly to himself, feeling a grave sinking feeling as the ship went smashing directly into the very same barrier he had been convinced that Laharl would have the common sense to avoid. _Well, dammit!_ _I have got to stop overestimating my enemy..._

The rocket buckled from the impact, and Vlanaar could see large chunks of it fragmenting off and falling from the sky. Ozonne, on the other hand, swore angrily at the sight. The ship was being destroyed, and yet it seemed determined to plow its way forward. At this rate, the occupants would almost certainly die. Though at the same time, she noticed that the barrier was being erected with holy magic...

"Idiots!" she hissed, feeling as though her luck was perpetually running out. How could she have wound up so close to Celestia's borders without penetrating the Netherworld? And how--now that she was so close to finding a way to actually getting there--could those morons on board the ship completely screw things up by ramming into a renowned, centuries old sacred barrier that had protected Celestia for generations of Seraphs. "Those freaking idiots...!"

Vlanaar was of a similar mind.

_Those fools!_ he thought angrily. _Don't they know that they can't break the seal without an angel present? _Mentally, he cursed the Overlord for his hard-headed stupidity as the visage of the fallen angel filled his mind. "I won't let you die," he said to himself quietly.

That caught Ozonne's attention. She glanced away from the rocket in time to see what he did next. Within the next few minutes, she would not be believing her eyes.

Moving strands of his bronze-colored hair out his face, he ripped the sword from its sheath and stabbed it into his shadow. An eerie blue light surrounded him, causing a cold breeze to sweep through the area. His cloak whipped frantically around his ankles as his own shadow started crawling over him. Soon, he was encased in the darkness. It fit him like a second set of skin.

"Now then..." he said, flexing his muscles. "Let's fix this."

As he streaked off towards the sky, Ozonne found herself completely dumbfounded. It took her a few minutes to regain her senses.

"Well, since that guy seems bent on solving my problem for me, I may as well find a way to sneak on board while everyone's so distracted. Maybe the ship won't come out so bad in the long run. That demon didn't look too stupid..."

Having made up her mind, Ozonne lit up her staff and followed Vlanaar.

* * *

The ground beneath Laharl's feet lurched without warning as the alarm continued to blare discordantly in his ears. He was thrown forward, and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he collided against the frame of the door. Behind him, he heard Flonne cry out in alarm. The thud that followed indicated what he had already suspected happened, which was that she had fallen out of bed. He only had time to glance over his shoulder to see if she was all right.

Flonne was clutching the sheets, staring up at him, her eyes wider than a pair of dinner plates.

"I'll be back," Laharl promised gruffly, picking himself up off the floor. Saying nothing else, he raced outside and tore down the hallway.

The red lights continued flashing in and out of sight, leaving eerie shadows behind him. At one point, Laharl actually stopped in his tracks, looking around suspiciously. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could have sworn that he just saw a person shaped shadow pass him by. He wheeled around, scanning his surroundings ruthlessly.

There was nothing there. Nothing except his own shadow.

"I must be seeing things," he muttered. "Dammit, Etna had better have a good excuse for this!"

Laharl emerged at the top of the flight of stairs, storming into the main control room. Unfortunately, his fierce and impressive entrance was marred as the ship lurched again, sending him tumbling to the floor. At the sound of the thud, Etna turned, giving the Overlord a nervous look.

"It's about time you got your lazy butt over here, Prince," she said severely. "We've got major problems."

"What is it?" he demanded. "I haven't got all day!"

"Well, first things first," said Etna. "Remember when I told you that it would be close to impossible to breach the barrier into Celestia without an angel? Well, I kept the prinnies on course like you said, and now the ship is being wrecked!"

Laharl gritted his teeth. "Doesn't this piece of junk have any weapons on it? Why did you just ram into the damn thing like an idiot?! Fire the main cannon!"

Etna started. "But, Prince...!"

"Do as I say!!!"

The demon girl sighed. _Well, it's been a good life, I suppose,_ she thought. "Fine. You heard him, prinny squad. Open fire!"

"Roger, dood!!!"

A loud humming rang in everyone's ears as a bright light began to charge deep within the barrels of the ridiculous-sized guns. After thirty seconds or so, the humming became so loud that the prinnies were having trouble focusing, and Etna clamped her hands over her sensitive pointed ears.

"Fire all lasers!" she barked.

As the orders were carried out, the light became so intense that everyone except Laharl cringed and covered their eyes. The Overlord stood there cooly, merely averting his gaze to the ground and listening carefully as the shot make contact against the barrier. He winced slightly at the deafening noise that shook the entire ship.

Bringing an arm over his eyes, Laharl squinted into the light. But almost immediately, his eyes widened a fraction of a degree. He only had enough time to see the laser beam strike against the holy barrier before being reflected back towards the ship--he couldn't even form a coherent thought before the entire left wing was completely blown apart by the explosion of dazzling light.

Everyone was thrown to the ground, and sirens started blaring like crazy. Etna, who was now sprawled on the floor, thankfully had not lost her senses. She was sitting up, screaming orders at the prinnies while clinging to the railing for support. Frantically, the prinnies tried to stablize the aircraft, which was pitching and spiraling without rhyme or reason--completely thrown off balance, like a one-winged bird struggling to stay in flight.

Laharl scrambled into onto his knees. He was furious with himself for making such a fatal error. With the ship in such poor condition, it was lucky that they hadn't disintirated upon impact. He knew that it this point, if they were going to get into Celestia, now was their last chance. However, to attempt a forced entry now with the aircraft so wrecked would be close to suicidal. The Overlord may have been stubborn, but he was not a complete moron. He knew enough about gambling from his dealings with Etna to know when the odds were too great.

"Dammit, we're going to have to try to land! We can't keep flying like this..."

"Smartest thing you said all day," Etna snapped. "C'mon, prinnies! Land this piece of crap!"

"We're trying, dood!"

A pang of worry nagged at the back of his mind as he thought of the fallen angel. Would she survive? She was already in miserable condition--it was doubtful that Flonne could endure even the most minor of accidents. He wondered what had happened to her when the wing got blown apart.

He gripped the pendant around his neck tightly in his fist. "I know it's a tough order, but try to make it a smooth landing, will you? I'm going to go check on the Love Freak."

Just before he could exit the main control room, however, the separate alarm started blarind discordantly against the first one. Gritting his teeth, Laharl swiveled back to face Etna.

"For the love of crap! What the hell's gone wrong now?!"

Etna shrugged, turning to face the prinny closest to her.

"Well?" she asked. "What's up?"

"We think that there might be an intruder on board, dood. The scanners indicated that there was, like, a foreign presence, dood!"

Laharl froze. He suddenly remembered that shadow in the hallway. Cold dread swept through him--but only for a second. After all, who could possbily defeat the great Overlord Laharl-sama? A confident smirk rose to his lips. Even in the midst of all this chaos, he welcomed a fresh challenge. It was foolish, but inevitable.

"And where is that...presence, now?"

"We...we can't pinpoint it's current location, dood...!"

"What do you mean you can't locate it," Etna replied, looking frustrated. "What is it, a freaking ghost?"

"We don't know, but we're doing everything possible, dood. For some reason, after the sensors detected the intruder they started going hay-wire, dood. It's as if some sort of strange power is causing interence."

It took an uncomfortable lurch from the ship to remind Laharl of the danger they were all in. They didn't have time to worry about an intruder if they were going to survive this fall.

"Etna, you and your prinny team concentrate on landing bringing us safely to the ground. I'll take care of the intruder..."

With that said, he stalked out of the room, his vivid cape swirling at his feet.

* * *

The fallen angel felt helpless as she sat on the floor, shivering from the intense cold in her heart. "Be careful," she whispered, even though she knew that there was no way Laharl could hear her now. She could only pray that he would be safe.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, she tried to get up. Just as she got to her feet, however, another random jolt shook the floor. Flonne stumbled forwards, grabbing onto the corner of the bed to keep herself standing. A quick glance out the window told her absolutely nothing--except for the fact that the ship seemed to be streaking towards nowhere. The alarm continued to shriek, making it close to impossible for her to think clearly.

Which is why she thought she was hallucinating when she looked back towards the door and saw...

"Vlanaar...?" she breathed.

But no. He wasn't Vlanaar. This man, whoever he was, was cloaked in that horrible blue shadow from her nightmares. She felt her heart pounding with terror as he stepped closer and closer to her. Her red eyes dilated fearfully, and she retreated as far back on the bed as the head-board would allow.

"Stay away!" she cried in a quavering voice.

The shadow stopped short. "Yuri," he said, half smiling at her.

Without warning, Flonne felt a wave of warmth pulsing through her chest. It was sharp like a knife, relentless like a flame. It made her lurch painfully as she struggled against this fire inside of her, hotter than anything she had ever felt in her entire life. A cry of shock escaped her.

Thousands of images flashed before her eyes, too quickly for her to take them in. _A fallen teddy bear, a spilled coin pouch, a blue shadow, a dead woman on the floor, blood everywhere..._but there were other scenes that she hadn't recognized before. _Fires blazing, people running, screaming in the streets, her lungs burning as she tried to escape...there was a blanket of snow surrounding her as she stood in the woods with one other person...but his face was concealed in a shadow..._

_"He's been waiting for this," he said, his voice desperate and pleading. "Ever since he saved you from the Overlord's bloodthirsty army, he never meant it to protect you. I know my father, Yuri! He's planning something..."_

_But she was no longer thinking on the young man's words. Instead she could only see the towering, imposing figure with a sword in his fist, his attenae standing on end as he regarded her trembling form. How distant his eyes were...yet not cruel. But frightening all the same._

"Laharl...?" she murmured, confused.

In concern, Vlanaar sat down on the edge of the mattress, reaching out a hand to steady her. But Flonne shied away from his touch.

"Yuri, it's me," he said gently.

Somehow, hearing the name snapped her out of her vision--but only because it caused the flame to burn more intensely.

"Don't!" she gasped, her chest arching from the sheer pain of it all. "Please, just...don't...!"

The shadow looked sobered by her reaction.

"It's okay," he urged, holding up his hands. Taking a deep breath, he let the darkness crawl away from his face. Flonne's eyes went huge as she stared into his smoldering grey eyes. "See? It's me..." he hesitated, "...Flonne...?"

She seemed completely shaken.

"Vlanaar..." she whispered, hardly daring to believe. Tentatively, she reached a hand out and touched his face, marveling in the softness of his skin and the smoldering of his grey eyes. She was almost couldn't look away--but then she shook her head. "What are you doing here? What's happening?" Her hand drifted to her forehead as her gaze drifted inwards, as though scanning through her thoughts. "I don't understand what's going on. And that brooch you gave me...!"

Vlanaar visibly tensed. "I'm so sorry...I never wanted it to hurt you like that."

Flonne felt like there was something else that she wasn't remembering...something important.

**A/N: Flonne does not remember the same blue shadow attacking the castle. She cannot remember anything that happened after Laharl kissed her in Chapter Nine.**

Whatever it was, it was immediately forgotten as she suddenly hissed in pain, clutching her chest.

"Flonne!"

"I'm...I'm okay," she assured him, looking sadly into his eyes. "Laharl says that...that...the brooch you gave me..." she struggled to keep talking, finding it difficult to keep her gaze focused on his. "He says that it's b-buried in my...in my chest..."

Flonne wondered why this didn't surprise him.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "It's burning you, isn't it?"

"Y-yes..." she gasped.

His hand reached out an caught her chin gently. Flonne froze. Something in the gesture was so familiar.

"Believe in me, Flonne..." he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Grey eyes met red ones, poised in the electrical gaze that was exchanged. Flonne felt torn, thinking of Laharl--but she couldn't look away. It was as though she were paralyzed. The fallen angel would have given anything to know why looking in his eyes made her feel this way. Her heart was racing. It reminded her of how she felt whenever Laharl walked into the room, or whenever his hand happened to brush hers.

Before she could contemplate any further, Vlanaar leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers, capturing them in a kiss. Flonne felt something deep inside of her jump start--a part of her that had been sleeping for so long had awakened under the gentle pressure he placed against her mouth. She sat completely still as he expressed his silent ardor for her, and as he pulled away, she almost started to tremble in confusion.

Why did she feel this way? Why was Vlanaar so familiar to her? She seemed to be able to anticipate his motions as his lips moved, even before he made them. This wasn't right. Laharl was the only person who had ever kissed her _that_ way. His arms were so strong around her waist, his crimson eyes seemed to lick her clean like fire...those eyes that reminded her so much of the Red Moon. She loved Laharl...so why...?

Vlanaar seemed to sense her uncertainty. "Please," he said quietly. "Just believe in me...Flonne..."

Her eyes closed, and shivers of delight went coursing through her as he caressed her cheek.

"Do you trust me...?" he whispered in her ear.

Flonne seemed to freeze upon the question. _Did _she trust Vlanaar--a devilishly handsome young man who she just met, but whom she felt as though she had known him all her life...? It was all so confusing. Instinctively, she moved her face deeper in the palm of his hand, sensing that this was what she was supposed to do--but could not bring herself to answer his question.

His hand inexplicably started to tremble at her motion.

"Vlanaar...?" she murmured

Flonne opened her eyes a fraction of a degree, but saw that he was sitting upright, as still and sharp as a rabbit listening for the sound of the baying of murderous hounds on his tail. It took her a moment to realize what it was he was listening to--a strange humming vibration that made the entire ship tremble as energy surged through it. What was happening...?

"It sounds like they're trying to power up an attack of some sort," he muttered. Almost instantly, those smoldering eyes flickered to her again. "Flonne," said Vlanaar urgently. "I need you to tell me where you're going. It's important! Are you trying to get into Celestia???"

She looked at him evenly, despite the fact that she was very uneasy. There seemed to be pure foreboding in his face.

"Yes."

Vlanaar swore under his breath, causing Flonne to cringe.

"You can't go there," he told her, looking so fervent that it made her hesitate.

"Why not?" Flonne asked. She tried to scan his expression for an explanation, but saw nothing but raw fear and...something that looked remarkably like resentment. "Why don't you want me going to Celestia, Vlanaar?"

There was a long pause as he clearly tried to think of something to say.

"If you do," he said slowly, "I can't guarantee that you'll all come back safely. Something terrible will happen."

Flonne grabbed his wrist, looking alarmed. "What will happen? Tell me...!"

Vlanaar looked despondant. "I can't," he said quietly. "I can't tell you anything else just yet...now's not the right time. But you have to trust me! There's no way you or your friends would survive the attempt, even if you were to try it. You're..." he paused. "You're not an angel anymore."

Almost simultaneously, the brooch went ice cold. The sensation made her feel as though she had been doused in frigid water. Vlanaar was right. She wasn't an angel anymore. Flonne had committed a great sin that cost her her status as an angel trainee, and a citizen of Celestia. And now that she was facing herself for what she was, the fallen angel realized that she had just committed another one.

Guilt surged through her as she thought of how willingly she complied with his temptations. Flonne had let him kiss her. Part of her had wanted it.

Before her thoughts could get anywhere further, a deafening roar had rendered her unable to hear. Her head swiveled towards the hallway and she saw it illuminated by a ghostly light. Her heart skipped a beat when suddenly, another large explosion seemed to rip the ship apart. Or at least, it sounded that way.

Both Vlanaar and Flonne were thrown from the bed and onto the floor. In an attempt to protect her, the demon had pulled her into an embrace and shielded her with his body as they collided against the cold metal. The fallen angel was winded for a moment. Gasping, she found herself in a rather compromising position. Vlanaar was partially underneath her, but had somehow had her trapped in his arms. Instinct prevailed, and she immediately struggled to get free.

The demon hissed as she squirmed a little too violently, causing _his_ instincts to take over.

With a swift movement, he grabbed a hold of her wrists and flipped her--as gently as he could--onto her back. Within seconds he had her pinned against the floor.

"Stop moving," he said sharply. "Just calm down, or you're going to get hurt!"

Without warning, the two were inexplicably interrupted.

"Get your hands off of Flonne before I break them!!!"

Both of them froze as they looked towards the door. Flonne in particular looked shocked as she regarded the familiar figure framed by the doorway, hands on hips. The green eyes that glared back at her were not amused at all.

"O-Ozonne..." the fallen angel murmured weakly.

"You heard me, jackass!" the angel barked. "Let go of my sister before I cave your face in!!!"

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it. The ship is in peril, everyone has a good chance at dying in the next chapter; and oh, by the way, Ozonne is really Flonne's sister. **

**I actually did some research and found out that Ozonne is an actual character in the Disgaea novels--which, as far as I know, were only sold in Japan. In any case, I caught a glimse at the screen shots of the pages and tried to determine her character, because I really wanted to include her in my story.**

**And yes, I also know that I already stated that Flonne's parents were dead. In case you forgot, she said that her parents died when she was three, way back in the third chapter. This was not an accident--I will actually explain the reason behind this bold statement sometime in the next couple of chapters--hopefully. It depends on how long it'll take for me to get them to Celestia...if they survive what happens next. --Evil smirk--**

**Now then, that being said, if I don't get enough reviews, I will end the next chapter abruptly and tragically. I have to say, though, I've been relatively cheerful by the steady flux of reviews I've been getting. I just don't want that to stop. I like being motivated. No reviews = no motivation = no interest in finishing the story. So if that happens, you might just find everyone suddenly dropping dead without any rhyme or reason to the plot. I'm just saying...**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! And don't forget to review!**


	14. Unending Rivalry Love is a Battlefield

**Disclaimer: Every time someone writes a disclaimer, a prinny explodes. Think about it; one disclaimer leads to another until is nothing but a field of broken penguin-like shells enveloped in a hazy fog. Hug a prinny today.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. On to the next chappie!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Unending Rivalry; Love is a Battlefield!**

Ozonne had always protected Flonne ever since they were children. It didn't matter that she was the younger sibling or that she was quickly ostracizing herself from the company of the other angels. That was just the kind of person she was--never backing away from her convictions, never wavering in her decisions, and always remaining ferocious in her loyalty and tenacity. So long as Flonne was safe from harm what did it matter that she had no friends? Ozonne had learned early on that friends could leave you at any time, but sisters stuck around like glue...

...at least, they did if you were Ozonne's sister...

There were times, though, when Flonne would severely test her patience. Ozonne constantly found herself wishing that she would be a bit quieter about her demon-sympathy sentiments; for it was her fervent yet controversial beliefs and her tendency to place her faith in people who didn't deserve it that made Flonne a constant target for the more malicious bigots in Celestia. And what made it worse was that no matter how horrible they were to her, no matter how many times they hit her and made her cry, no matter how many stones they threw and no matter how close they were to striking her--Flonne never retaliated. Not once.

It made Ozonne so angry. Flonne just let other people walk all over her. Well, damn it, if she wasn't going to protect herself, then Ozonne would just have to do it instead. She wouldn't let anyone near her naive older sister. Not since that incident...

Until that day, Ozonne never knew how far wings could bend without breaking from the pressure.

* * *

They were still young. Flonne was nine hundred years old and Ozonne had just gotten through celebrating her seventh century. It was an overcast afternoon, leaving a thick fog to wind through the streets of the small town where they lived, and it was the day that Flonne usually went down to their village shrine to sit in the simple garden that she herself had planted there. It had been a lonely spot that people rarely visited--just a run-down park that no one cared about.

Flonne had made that place her sanctuary. All on her own she went out and purchased the plants and got down in the dirt to plant them. It had cost her two years of savings to get everything she needed for that undertaking--and the result was a small, quaint little garden that belonged solely to her.

Yes, it all belonged to Flonne; not because she wasn't willing to share, but because other people, blinded by their hatred for Flonne's demon sympathy, refused to go anywhere near it. The children repeated the cruel things their parents told them about how it was a spot for summoning demons; how it was a little square of hell that the weird girl had planted from the evil and wickedness in her own heart. Ozonne had been present when Flonne first heard those nasty rumors. She didn't even cry. Instead, her face became a pale mask of poorly feigned indifference that didn't fool everyone. It made her want to smack her until the tears came--at least then, they would be genuine.

Ozonne, even at that age, constantly struggled to deal with the mixed feelings she had of her older sister. While she loved Flonne and wanted to protect her, she also hated her for her weakness, for her tendency to overlook slights against her, for her need to believe in others because she was too lonely to remain cautious in solitude.

So when Flonne invited Ozonne to come with her to the shrine, she had stoutly refused out of mingled petulant resentment and contempt for the poor weather. Though as she watched her older sibling walk out the door, she had felt a cold chill run up her spine in foreboding. Before Ozonne could really understand what it was she was feeling, the door had already snapped shut behind her and Flonne was already half-way down the next block.

She shook it off, telling herself it was only the wind that made her feel such a icy fear in her stomach.

But hours had passed with no word from Flonne. Ozonne pretended to be absorbed in her studies--for even then, she was training to become a powerful Celestial mage--but every five minutes, it seemed, her mother would drift anxiously to the window, looking hopefully out into the murky fog for her daughter. It was all the woman could do short of going out and looking for Flonne herself. She had no friends--there was no one to ask about her daughter's location.

So Erl continued to fret, and Ozonne continued to stew in her own silent rising panic. Finally, she tossed her textbook aside, grabbed her staff, and went to the door.

"I'm going out," she said over her shoulder as she grasped the doorknob in her hand.

Annoyingly, she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Your sister still isn't back yet, and I..."

Ozonne pretended not to notice how Erl had trailed off fearfully. "I won't be gone long. I'm going to bring Flonne home."

Her mother's brow creased from worry. "You know where she is?"

"Flonne said that she was going to her shrine," the child replied simply. "She can't have gone that far."

Squirming out of Erl's grip, Ozonne pulled open the door and darted outside, scampering down the street as fast as her legs would take her. She ignored her mother's cries, as well as the thunder she began to hear rumbling in the distance. She just kept running, becoming more certain with each step that she was in danger of losing something dear to her. _Faster_, she thought, _faster!_

She had turned several corners and nearly bumped into several people, many of whom turned to look back at the angel girl as though she had completely lost her mind. It wasn't until ten minutes later that she managed to reach the outskirts of the little park that the shrine inhabited. It had taken far too long in her opinion.

Ozonne hesitated as she stared at the gaping entrance to the park. She was feeling that cold shiver again, one that told her that she wouldn't like what she was about to see. It tempted her to turn back and pretend like everything would be okay. But her face hardened into a childish scowl.

"I'm not leaving without her," she snapped, startling a couple of birds from the perch on a nearby branch. They flew away, squawking in protest as they disappeared in the fog.

Ozonne lit up the tip of her staff with a simple light spell, using it to illuminate the path in front of her. Then, taking a deep breath, she entered the park. It took her a moment to adjust to the darkness that the shade of the trees provided. The combined humidity and fog made her feel as though she were suffocating, but that didn't stop her from pushing onwards into the very heart of the park.

"Flonne!" she called into the swirling mist. "Flonne! Dammit, Mom says it's time to come home! Flonne!"

There was no answer, though Ozonne thought that she heard an animal yelping faintly in the distance. The sound made every hair in her tomboyish hair-cut stand on end.

"Flonne, if you don't get your butt over here right now, I'm coming over there to kick it!" Ozonne yelled. "I mean it! I'm almost at the...shrine..."

Ozonne had just stepped into the clearing where Flonne's shrine was supposed to have been standing. Instead, all she saw was destruction. Plants had been ripped up by the root and were mercilessly strewn across the grass, while the shrine itself had been smashed into splinters of broken wood. All was calm and quiet, as though every living creature was hiding silently from the predator that had committed this atrocity.

"Flonne..." she murmured, her emerald eyes wide with fear. "Flonne! Where are you!?"

Ozonne tore off down an adjacent path that looked as though it had been traveled on recently. There were footprints heading in that directly, plus a weird streak in the dirt as though something heavy had been dragged through the trees. It made her afraid.

"Onee-san!!!" the girl screamed. "Flonne, please..."

Almost immediately, she heard a wounded cry in the distance.

"Ozonne...! Stay away!"

The warning was cut off with a yelp as the sound of knuckle striking flesh reached her ears. A loud thud indicated that someone had fallen to the ground. That was Ozonne's cue to completely disregard the ominous words and come running in to the rescue. But as she found the source of the scuffle, she froze in her tracks, rooted to the ground from sheer horror alone.

"Flonne...?"

The angel lay crumpled on her side, breathing heavily in the dirt. Surrounding her were a group of older kids--young enough to get swept up in their hatred, but old enough to do serious damage to their enemy. And right now, Flonne was their enemy.

That was all it took to get Ozonne mad. She leapt into the circle, lighting up a lightning spell and firing it at the nearest thug. The thirteen-hundred year old youth screamed in pain and leapt backwards, dropping the bloodied club in his hands. The others turned and glared at her in loathing.

"Shit," one of them grunted. "It's that runt sister of hers."

Despite Ozonne's small size, the others knew enough of her reputation to be wary of her. There wasn't a single kid in the village who wasn't afraid of the girl's spells--or her lack of discrepancy in using them. The punks all looked towards their leader, who Ozonne had just shocked, and yeiled when he beckoned them away.

"Lucky your little sister had the balls to save you, freak!" one of them sneered, kicking her as he passed. Before Ozonne could retaliate, they had run off into the darkness.

She glared at them for a moment before running over to Flonne. Dropping to her knees, she tried to turn her over onto her back so that she could get a closer look at her face, but Flonne let out a scream of pain that made her freeze.

"Flonne," she whispered. "What did they do to you???"

"N-nothing..." Flonne lied, coughing a little. "Just don't p-put me on my b-back, okay?"

Ozonne turned to look at what was causing her sister so much pain and felt bile rising in her throat. Flonne's wings were sitting at a broken angle, completely disjointed and soaked in dirt and blood. They had been mangled.

"Those monsters..."

"It's nothing," Flonne protested.

"Shut up!" Ozonne snapped. "I'm sick and tired of hearing your stupid lies! Why do you stick up for them all the time? You're such an idiot!!!"

"Ozonne..."

"I hate you!" she screamed, tears flooding her eyes. "I hate you and your stupid love and peace! I hate how you just lie there, whimpering like a dog, and I hate having to be the one to save you all the time! Why won't you save yourself??? Why???"

Flonne fell silent.

"Answer me!"

"Hurting them won't solve anything," the girl whispered. "Pain only creates more hatred..."

"Yeah? Well, stupidity is a leading cause of death! Idiot!"

Flonne coughed, rubbing her mouth with her fist. Gingerly, she moved into a kneeling position, one palm still pressed to the dirt to support herself. That was when all of the cuts and bruises became obvious, like a grotesque baas relief. Somehow, even in her haggard appearance, Flonne seemed to shine with goodness--it made her beautiful in a sad way. It made Ozonne completely break down.

Burying her face in her hands, the girl felt hot angry tears stinging her palms as she bawled and bawled. Minutes passed as Ozonne wept, and every now and then the girls felt a raindrop grazing them like a stray tear. They could hear the thunder getting louder, and lightning flashed in the rapidly darkening sky.

Without warning, the clouds opened up, finally yeilding to the waves of rain pelting to the ground. Neither sister moved as they became soaked in the helpless abandon that poured from the sky, and the only sound that could be heard above the dinn of the wind and rain was Ozonne's sobbing.

Suddenly, Flonne crawled over to her and put her arms around her. "Ozonne...it's okay..." she said consolingly in her ear. "Don't cry anymore..."

Ozonne considered that murmured assurance to be one of the most cruel lies ever told in the history of the universe. But all the girl could do was put her arms around Flonne's shoulders and cry like the child that she was. Sometimes, she had to keep reminding herself that that was what she was--a child. After everything they had been through together, Ozonne had somehow forgotten that Flonne was her big sister and not the other way around.

* * *

"This is your last chance, buddy! Let go of Flonne before I make you wish you never had been born!"

Vlanaar hesitated, glancing at the fallen angel tucked in his arms. But a sudden spell hurtling towards him made him leap backwards, out of harms way. The shining orb smashed into the wall behind them, but fortunately did not rip through the metal. After all, it wasn't Ozonne's intent to kill...not yet, anyway.

"Ozonne, stop!" Flonne pleaded, looking fearfully towards Vlanaar. But Ozonne's staff was still glowing from the spell she had cast, and by the looks of it, she was about to fire off another one. She completely ignored her sister.

"Leave!" Ozonne barked. Vlanaar narrowed his eyes at her.

"How do I know you're not going to hurt her?" he asked in a low voice. "You seem to lack discretion in your spell casting, little girl."

All it took was for Ozonne's staff to glow ominously brighter to make Vlanaar realize that he had just committed the most unpardonable of sins.

"I am not a child!!!" she screamed. "Now get the hell out of here before I show you just how not little I am!!!"

Vlanaar was about to retort when he suddenly noticed the pair of wings sprouting from her back. His grey eyes widened perceptibly, and he even lowered his sword a fraction of a degree. "You're an angel...?"

Ozonne merely glared at him. Vlanaar quickly got the hint.

"Fine! Fine!" he said hastily, holding up his hands. "I'll leave...for now..."

"Vlanaar?" Flonne murmured, looking torn.

"I'll be back," he promised. "I'm as real as your own shadow, Flonne. Remember that."

The girls watched as his shadow crawled over his body, completely immersing him in darkness. Then, his silhouette swirled into an orb and sank into the floor, disappearing from sight. His departure left a tense silence as the two sisters regarded one another.

"Your ears..." said Ozonne, frowning. "And...those wings...that tail...Flonne, what...?"

Her question never had the chance to be asked, for right at that moment, they were interrupted yet again.

"Flonne!"' Laharl boomed from the hallway. "Dammit, can't I leave you alone for one freaking minute...?!"

The fallen angel winced. Had he seen Vlanaar???

Within seconds, the shape of the Overlord filled the doorway, glowering at them both.

"All right," he said slowly. "What's going on here? And who the hell are you?!?" he demanded, pointing rudely at Ozonne.

Ozonne planted her hands on her hips, obtinately refusing to be intimidated by Laharl's tone of voice. "That's none of your business! Anyway, I think you should tell me who you are before you go around making stupid demands like that!"

"_You_ want to know who _I_ am? I'll teach _you_ to be so arrogant! Soon, you'll learn to fear the name of the Overlord!!!"

It took a few seconds for that to register.

"The Overlord?" said Ozonne blankly. "_You_? There's no way in hell you could be the Overlord..."

"Oh, yeah? Why not?"

"Because Flonne here was sent to kill King Krichevskoy! And believe me, you're not him!"

Laharl smirked darkly. "Well, you're right about one thing. I'm not Krichevskoy; I'm his son, Laharl. But I assure you that I am the Overlord, and anyone who dares to challenge my authority will feel my unwavering wrath!!!!"

"Ozonne," said Flonne quietly. "What are you doing here? And...how did you get here?"

The angel girl looked a little annoyed. "Why do you sound so suspicious, anyway? Mom and Dad are worried sick about you. You've wasted enough time with this mission of yours; it's time to come home!"

Laharl was extremely agitated at being ignored so easily. And the claims this girl was making were completely ridiculous. If she really intended to take Flonne--_his_ Flonne--away from him, she had another thing coming! He would teach her to take something that clearly belonged to him.

He stepped forward, separating Ozonne from Flonne.

"And who the hell do you think you are, trying to steal one of my own vassals from right under my nose? You clearly have a death wish in mind..."

"W-wait, Laharl!" Flonne cried, holding up her hands. "Don't attack! She's my little sister, Ozonne!!!"

"I don't care who the hell she is!" Laharl replied petulantly. "She's not taking you away, got it? You're mine!"

The statement and its implications caused the fallen angel to turn a bright red. "Laharl!"

"Wait a minute!" Ozonne snapped. "Flonne, is this runt serious??? You went and became his vassal?!? No wonder you look like a demon! It's because you are a demon now, aren't you???"

"She may be a demon," said the demon king off-handedly, "but she's still a complete Love Freak! It's really annoying."

"Actually," Flonne amended, "I'm a fallen angel now. This was my punishment for helping Laharl win his throne and for becoming his vassal...and for hurting other angels to do it." The fallen angel looked at her curiously. "I thought you knew...I mean, I thought that Lamington-sama would have told you..."

"He didn't tell us a damn thing!" Ozonne snapped. "We didn't hear anything about you, so we thought that you were still trying to assassinate the Overlord! You could have been dead for all we knew!"

The fallen angel shivered, feeling the creeping cold returning without any fore-warning. She hugged her arms to her chest and tried to hide the discomfort.

"I can't understand why he would do that," Flonne murmured distractedly, rubbing her shoulders to bring some warmth into them. "Lamington-sama...why would he let you worry like that???"

Laharl shot her a withering look. "And that surprises you? That Seraph keeps everyone in the dark..."

"That's for sure," Ozonne muttered.

The angel and the demon looked up at each other, a little surprised that they were in agreement over something. And that's when Ozonne realized that Laharl wasn't like the other boys she had met back in Celestia. Besides the obvious fact that he was a demon, he wasn't cringing from fear at the very sight of her. His stance was bold and arrogant--which annoyed her to some extent--but it also proved that he was no coward. That interested her.

"Hmmph...!" Laharl turned away from her, looking towards Flonne again. "Well, what are you doing, just sitting there? Get up already!"

Ozonne was stung by his indifference. Dammit, she had never had a boy blatantly ignore her before. Sure, a lot of them were scared shitless to be in the same room with her, but they had never just brushed her off before. It was so unnerving and she didn't like it one bit. This Laharl person acted as though she didn't matter!

Well she would show him.

"Don't you boss her around!" Ozonne snapped. "Flonne, what are your legs broken or something? Get up!"

Laharl glared at her. Reaching down, he grabbed Flonne by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "I can boss her around all I want! She's my vassal!"

Ozonne glared right back. Grabbing Flonne by the other arm, she said, "She's _my_ sister!"

Flonne blinked bemusedly, suddenly and inexplicably finding herself the living, breathing rope in a tenacious tug-of-war. Laharl tried to jerk her out of Ozonne's grasp, but the angel held on like an angry pit-bull.

"Let go!" he growled.

"Make me!"

Laharl bared his teeth. "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve! Just who do you think you are barging in here! I'm sure as hell that you weren't invited!"

Ozonne felt her blood-pressure rising. "Listen, jerkface, I'm going to tell you what I told that other asswhole a few minutes ago! She's my sister, and I'm not leaving without her! So get your hands off of her before I make you wish you had never been born!"

His grip on Flonne's arm slackened--but not for the reasons she thought.

"Who?" he demanded quietly. "What asswhole?"

Ozonne waved her free hand distractedly. "I don't know...Flonne, what was his name again? Vlanaar or something like that?"

"Vlanaar..." he said in a deadly soft voice.

Laharl felt Flonne stiffen. His crimson eyes looked directly in her own two frightened ones, and the familiar white hot jealousy crawled in his veins. There was nothing but disdain in his face as he relinquished hold on her arm completely, pushing her roughly at Ozonne.

"You want her? Take her."

Flonne gave him a confused look. "Laharl...?"

The Overlord turned his back on her. "It's not like she means anything to me. She's just a vassal; a lying, cheating whore of a vassal."

Each word stabbed her directly in her heart, bringing so much pain that she almost wished for oblivion. Sweet, sweet nothingness...oh, God, how she welcomed the thought. What hurt the most wasn't the cruelty in his voice--it was the clarity and the truth behind his words. Flonne felt the sin burning inside of her, the way ice burned when it lay directly against her skin. The numbness swept over her like a blanket, enveloping her in a chilly embrace. That was why she never felt the tears in her own eyes.

Her expression only served to provoke Ozonne.

"Oh, so one minute you're about to rip my arm off to keep her, and now you're throwing her away like some piece of trash?" the angel snarled. "You really are a jerk! Come on, Flonne! We're leaving!"

But the fallen angel didn't move an inch. She didn't hear a single word she had said.

"Flonne?"

The fallen angel's face was hidden by her bangs.

"You're making a mistake," she said softly. "Whatever you think, I didn't...I didn't invite him here. He came on his own."

"Oh, really?" he said angrily. "What exactly was he doing here, then?"

Flonne's face flushed guiltily. "He was trying to warn me. He...he didn't want us to go to Celestia."

"I'm glad I kicked him out, then," said Ozonne. "You have no business with these demons, you know."

"They're my friends," she protested. "You'd see it if you knew them, Ozonne."

The angel girl got right up into her face, her expression flooded with resentment and ire. She shook her head slowly, her emerald eyes narrowing into slits.

"You never change, do you? You'd stick up for anyone no matter what they do or say to hurt you...when are you going to learn that people can't be trusted? How many times am I going to have to come save the skin on your ass until you're willing to fight back? Stop being so weak!"

"Can't...be trusted...I...no, you're wrong!"

"You know, as much as I hate to agree with someone who's so thick-headed and stubborn, you're moronic sister has a point," Laharl said loftily. "You're too gullible. I suppose that's why you keep seeing that jerk behind my back...!"

Flonne looked at him. "I'm not--"

"Save it. I don't want to hear your excuses..." he muttered. He stared contemplatively at the floor, trying to figure something out in his mind. Flonne waited anxiously for him to speak again.

After a moment's silence, Laharl met her gaze.

"Either way, I'm not stopping until I figure out what the hell is going on. We're going to Celestia."

A smile broke out on Flonne's face like the rising sun. "Laharl..." Tentatively, she reached out to grasp his hand, but he shied away--he avoided her touch as though she were contaminated. That was all it took for the cloudy expression to return to her face. "Laharl..." she said again, only this time her voice ached with sadness.

"Don't touch me," he spat. "I mean it when I say I want nothing to do with you."

Laharl ignored the pained look on her face as he turned to Ozonne. Against all odds, he forced his face into an expression of calm and indifference.

"You're an angel, right?" he said bluntly. "I'll strike a bargain with you. If you open the gate into Celestia, I'll give you and your...sister...a ride. And then you can never darken my doorstep again."

Ozonne felt nothing but loathing for the Overlord--and yet, the fire in his gaze was so...intriguing. Against her will, she found herself actually interested in him; which is why she had no reservations in accepting his offer.

"Gladly," she snapped. "No thanks to you, jackass."

Laharl chose to ignore that.

"Whatever. Now if you excuse me, I have to go find Etna and figure out why we haven't crashed yet."

He eyed the two sisters with dislike before turning on his heel, sweeping out of the room. The last either of them saw of him that day was the end of his cape snapping around the corner, all too eager to be rid of them both.

* * *

From the shadows, Delyffe listened to the scene with a smirk on her face. Her electric blue eyes sparkled with excitement, the same way they did whenever an interesting test subject came up. It was all too perfect for words.

"So..." she said quietly to herself. "Vlanaar came and stuck his nose in...well, Master won't like that, will he?"

She left her hiding place, now absolutely certain that no one was present. Sensing no one, she went smugly down to her own room, down towards the very bowels of the ship. She didn't bother turning on the light switch--after all, what need did a blind person have for light? She practically lived and breathed darkness. It was her sanctuary.

Delyffe extended her hand towards the pitch black surrounding her. Soon, it glowed a bright, eerie blue. She closed her eyes, focusing as the light condensed, carving the shape of a blue spiral pattern--the same that had been carved on Vlanaar's chest--into the back of her hand.

When Delyffe opened her eyes again, they were glowing blue.

"Master..." she called softly. "I have news for you..."

The darkness swirled around her, and though she didn't see it, she sensed that the area around her had been altered. It supercharged her senses; made her feel as though lightning flowed through her veins like blood. A crazed smile--her most welcome smile--lit up her face.

_"Speak," _came a disembodied command. It came from the core of the abyss.

"It seems that we were double-crossed," she half-sang, relishing in this feeling she had whenever _he_ was near. "He tried to take the Miracle with him--tried to stop her from going to Celestia."

_"Indeed? Well, this is no surprise. I suspected it of Vlanaar...so enamored with his Yuri that he loses sight of common sense._"

"He may still be hiding, Master," Delyffe added. "I never felt his presence leave this ship. Should I seek him out?"

_"No. If the Overlord realizes your connection with him, it could be dangerous to our plans. Do nothing until I command it_."

"Your wish is my command," she purred. "But I'll personally make him pay for betraying us...one day."

_"ONLY when I command it...!" _the voice repeated, only this time there was a hidden threat in its tone. _"Remember, Delyffe. A traitor is one who breaks his or her word with the Azure Spires. And you gave me your word that I had your undying loyalty. Any insubordinance on your part will be considered as nothing short of betrayal."_

"Woe be to anyone who utters the name of the Blue Saint in vain," Delyffe replied without skipping a beat. It rolled off the tongue so perfectly that it was almost like some sort of motto of hers. "And woe be to anyone who crosses knives with the Azure Spires."

_"So be it. Now go. The Overlord will suspect if you are away for too long_."

"Yes, Master."

The ominous presence of the disembodied voice ebbed away, leaving Delyffe in the dark. The light pouring from her eyes and her markings had also dimmed to nothingness. But she was happy. Deep within her heart, she felt as though she had moved up in her master's graces, and nothing--not even the disappointment of not being able to seek out the traitor--could spoil that for her.

Nothing.

"I think I'll go check up on the Miracle Girl," she said to herself. "Flonne's been so frail lately...Master will be very displeased if she dies."

With that thought in mind, Delyffe left the room. Woe indeed for anyone who crossed her path for the rest of the day.

* * *

**A/N: Ta-dah! Plot twist for you! Just what is Delyffe's connections to Vlanaar? And who is this mysterious being she's summoning in the darkness of her bedroom? And how will Laharl and crew adjust to having Ozonne on board? **

**The first and most important question I'm going to answer is why _didn't_ the ship crash like it was supposed to? Don't worry, I didn't forget about that. I'm planning on having the crew take a little, unexpected detour before going to Celestia. One that may or may not take them into the paths of the ominous Azure Spires. I haven't decided yet.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked. Please review.**


	15. Flying Through Limbo

**Disclaimer: Well, surprise surprise. I'm writing another disclaimer. Well, I may not own Disgaea, but let's hope that I never own , otherwise the poor schmuck who came up with the disclaimer is going to be in a world of hurt!!!**

**...**

**However, if you are a admin and are reading this disclaimer, please, I'm only joking. I am SO not threatening anyone. I'm just expressing discontent with the nature of the disclaimer.**

**Yeah, if an admin really were to read this, I'd so be banned. Let's just keep our fingers crossed, then, shall we? On with the fic!!!**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Flying Through Limbo**

Flonne sank down onto the mattress, feeling it sag with the weight of her body and her guilt. Breathing a sigh, she buried her face in her hands and rubbed her temples furtively, as though trying to ward off a major head-ache. Beside her, she could sense Ozonne sitting down, staring at her sister witih an inscrutable expression on her face.

"What's got you so eaten up?" she asked. "I mean, shouldn't you be glad? This is your big chance!"

The fallen angel sniffed, looking up at her. "What...what do you mean?"

Ozonne rolled her eyes. "Duh, Flonne. Your mission is done and over with. You can come home now."

Flonne shook her head silently. Her home was in the Netherworld, with Laharl and Etna and all of her friends. She may have lived in Celestia for most of her life, but her time with the Overlord made her realize that it was never really a home.

The fallen angel remained silent, staring at the shadow beneath her feet.

"Look," said Ozonne, "if it's that Laharl guy you're worried about, don't. I'll totally kick his ass if he so much as lays a finger on you. I don't care how well-cut his abs are, or how cute of a face he has!"

That caught her attention.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about how high his level is?" Flonne asked quietly, looking towards her sister in confusion. There was something sparkling behind those emerald eyes that she didn't quite like.

"I still can't believe that that runt is an Overlord," Ozonne muttered, completely ignoring her.

"He's stronger than he seems."

"Whatever. Still, he does have a nice butt..."

Flonne turned a bright red. "Ozonne!"

"What? It's true."

"You shouldn't be thinking of Laharl like that," she mumbled. "He...he isn't really your type..."

"How do you know?" Ozonne demanded, tossing her head. "Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, once we get to Celestia we'll probably never see him again."

Flonne felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. She hadn't thought of that. Up until that moment, she had been harboring the silent hope of secretly sneaking off to the Netherworld when no one was looking. However, this statement quickly punctured any such thoughts just as they were inflating in her mind.

"I'm a demon now," said Flonne flatly. "I can't live in Celestia. Those are the rules."

"Oh, come on," her sister replied. "You're Lamington's favorite. I'm sure he'd pull some strings for you. He certainly doesn't have a problem doing it under normal circumstances, right?"

"I don't know..."

"What's there to be worried about?" she asked. "It's not like that Laharl jerk is going to try to stop you. He basically just washed his hands of you. You're free."

"Free?"

The word sounded strange in this situation. If Flonne was free, why did she feel so hindered--bound to a situation she was helpless to change? Invisible chains weighed on her, connecting her tenaciously to her sister and Celestia. But they were so heavy that they completely hid her from Laharl. She would lose him. It was inevitable, wasn't it?

"I don't want to go back, Ozonne."

Her sister merely clicked her tongue in disapproval. "More of your demon sympathies, I assume. God, I thought you would have gotten over that considering how much time you spent living with that punk Overlord and his mouthy-ass servants."

"I already told you," Flonne snapped. "They're my friends, and Laharl...I..."

"What?"

Flonne went still. "Nothing," she replied softly. After all, it was inevitable. "I just wish that there was something I could do...to change things..."

As she spoke those words, her own shadow seemed to stir, as if moved by her plea. And that was when the ship lurched, briefly radiating an eerie blue light as it plunged into a new state of chaos. The two girls were completely immersed in the darkness, barely daring to breathe as they awaited their fates.

* * *

Etna had been doing everything she could to keep them all from hurdling to the ground and dying in a horrible fiery conflagration that would undoubtedly follow the potentially fatal crash. In other words, she was trying to land the ship without killing anyone. It had been careening out of control despite her best efforts, and it took every ounce of self-control not to bludgeon her prinnies to death every time they seemed to be on the verge of panicking. It didn't help that she was on the verge of panicking herself. Those blaring alarms didn't really do much to calm one's nerves.

It also didn't help when suddenly, the entire ship was immersed in a strange blue light.

"What the hell!?" Etna gasped, clutching the railing for support. Looking out the window, she could see how warped the area around the ship had become. A huge rift had opened up, slowly sucking them in.

"Dood, we can't avoid it!" a prinny cried. "The engines don't have enough power to break the gravitational pull, dood!"

Etna didn't even have time to reply. Before she knew it, they had been sucked into the vortex.

There had been an initial jerk as the ship plunged into the abyss, and they all moved at a speed so fast that by the time any of them had realized something was happening, it had already ended. Now, they were suspended in an unnerving void, in which everything was pitch black. No one dared to breathe.

"Are we even moving, dood?" one of the prinnies asked tentatively, breaking the silence.

"I dunno, but I'm scared, dood! This is like an episode of the Twilight Zone, dood!"

"Goddammit, I need a status report!" Etna barked, startling them out of their meaningless conversation. "Quit your yapping and figure out where the hell we are!"

Just then, an eerie keening sound could be heard--no one could tell if it was the groaning of straining metal or the wailing of the wind outside. But it was all the more strange in the utter calm that surrounded the ship. It was law and order so rigid that it became chaos in the minds of the crew.

That was the moment when Laharl came running from down below, his expression completely inscrutable as he regarded his surroundings. "What's going on!?" he demanded, looking bewilderedly out one of the port windows.

The demon girl was so unnerved by their current situation that she could already feel her nerves on the brink of snapping. "Your guess is as good as mine, Prince," Etna snapped. "I sure as hell don't know!"

"Well, stop being a bitch and find out, then," Laharl muttered, turning away.

Etna frowned at him. Despite the nagging fear she felt at this strange predicament, she knew better than to rise to his bait. Instead, she was more curious about what put him in such a sour mood.

"What happened to that intruder you were supposed to find?" she asked, planting her hands on her hips.

Laharl went very still. Slowly, he turned to give her a hate-filled glare.

"Which one?" he growled. "Flonne's shrew of a sister or her freaking boyfriend?"

"Well that answered that question," she sighed. "Vlanaar was here. But what's this I'm hearing about a sister?"

Her question was met with stony silence. Etna took the opportunity to scrutinize the Overlord, taking careful note of how his antennae twitched in aggrivation and how his hands were tightly clenched into fists. She could tell that he was on the brink of an explosion. Typical, typical Laharl.

"I guess you killed them both," Etna sighed.

"I should have," Laharl muttered, running a hand through his hand. "All three of them."

Etna raised an eyebrow. "Just remember what happened the last time you went around acting like a jealous idiot. Now Flonne has a brooch living in her chest cavity."

"Why should I care about what happens to that whore?!?" he said a little too loudly, his voice unsteady.

Laharl turned to look at the demon girl, searching her face for an answer. Instead, all he received was a small, yet sad smile. It was so uncharacteristic of Etna that it made him recoil a couple of steps.

"Etna?"

"That," she said slowly, "is one of the most pointless questions you ever asked me."

There was a long pause as those words sank in.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Laharl asked.

Etna shook her head, turning away to look out the window. "What does it matter why? It doesn't change the fact that you do care...and you always will care, won't you?"

Before Laharl could even think of a coherent answer, the screaming of a near-by prinny drew their attention away from their conversation and to the monitors. But Etna silently resolved that she would pick it up at a later time--she had to hear what happened from Flonne's point of view before she could actively judge whether or not Laharl was being ridiculously petulant again.

"Dood!" the prinny cried, pointing to the screen. "What is that, dood?!?"

Their jaws dropped. Some invisible force had carved a rippling blue spiral pattern right in the pitch blackness surrounding them. It was spiraling outwards right towards them, causing the very fabric of space to tremble. The ship bucked, and before anyone could so much as take in the sight of so much chaos, they had plunged into another hole in the darkness.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Overlord's Castle...

A green prinny trudged wearily down the hallway, carrying a large pile of scrolls in his flipper-like arms. Sighing to himself, he pushed open a door and disappeared inside.

Turning to face his surroundings, Kurtis found himself in a comfortable study, with a lush red velvet carpet, ornate mahogany furniture including a very intimidating-looking desk, and a high ceiling. Behind the desk was a wide, spacious window overlooking a balcony. Kurtis often passed the time in here whenever the Overlord was away--which was almost all the time since Laharl rarely did anything practical in that room.

When the Overlord is away, the prinnies will play. That was something Kurtis understood all too well; which is why he had volunteered to watch the castle while Laharl and the others made their little journey to God knows where. Kurtis hadn't even bothered to find out. He had other things on his mind.

Placing the scrolls carefully on the table, the green prinny began rummaging around in search of something. As he moved things around, some of the scrolls came undone, unwraveling and revealing various designs that were both detailed and complex. They were for various gadgets and gizmos that Kurtis loved to tinker around with every now and then. Usually, the reward for such efforts would be a new weapon to use in battle or something to make his life easier in general--that is, if Laharl's other vassals didn't trash it first.

Kurtis sweatdropped as he thought about it. Why, just a week ago Flonne had showed up in his lab with the urge to help. Several explosions and a major headache later, he had unceremoniously kicked the fallen angel out and barred the door from any more intruders from entering and disrupting his work.

And right now, he was in the middle of something particularly important.

"I know it was around here somewhere..." he mumbled, pushing the scrolls aside and revealing a worn looking letter. Upon inspection, this proved to be something Kurtis had already read...several times. But he kept it around as an incentive to keep working. After all, he had less than a year to finish it.

The letter read:

_Dear Kurtis,_

_How are you doing lately? Gordon and I have noticed that you didn't respond to our last letter, and we were wondering if you got it. If not, don't worry about it. I'm sure you've been really busy since you started working for Harlie. Isn't he engaged to Flonne yet? If not, tell him to get a move on for me. I probably won't be in the condition to travel for quite a while now, so I'm counting on you to pass the message on._

_Which reminds me. Gordon wanted me to tell you before anyone else, and I agree with him. Anyway, I'm pregnant. Go figure._

_Yeah, I'm as surprised as you are. We're hoping for a boy--well, Gordon is, anyway. Personally, I wouldn't mind having a daughter, but Captain Moron over here is insisting that we raise another defender of Earth. Not to say that I don't want a son. I'm just saying that it's a little bit sexist for him to assume that a girl isn't as capable of growing up into a defender of Earth as a boy. In fact, I told him so. He just laughed in my face._

Kurtis winced as he read that part again. Gordon never had been the brightest bulb in the garden--even he knew, back before his wife had been pregnant, that you can never EVER disagree with a hormonally imbalanced woman, especially if you were the one who got her in that condition. And if he hadn't known it, he had learned pretty damn quickly after a near-fatal collision with a vase that had been hurled at his skull.

He shuddered and put the letter aside.

Eventually, Kurtis stumbled upon his quarry--a scroll that had been completely covered with complex formulas. Beside them was a crude sketch of what resembled either a space ship or a breast pump. Without hesitation, he clumsily picked up a pen in his flipper and began scrawling messily, making various annotations wherever he had room to cram them. "If all goes well," he said to himself, "I'll have this finished well before they get here..."

Looking back at the letter, Kurtis skipped past the several paragraphs describing, in depth, the various incidents of morning sickness and other horribly graphic symptoms of pregnancy; and instead focused on the last one:

_By the way, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, would it be okay if Gordon and I were to come to visit this weekend? I know it'll probably cause hell with Harlie--he's such a stick in the mud sometimes. But I have a feeling that he'll say yes if he's in the right mood. Besides, we haven't seen you in a long time! Just don't tell him or the others that I'm pregnant. If you do, you'll have something large and pointy shoved up your prinny ass. Capiche?_

Kurtis didn't doubt Jennifer's words. When a pregnant woman sent you a death threat, she usually meant every word. He would not say a word--and anyway, it wouldn't matter because Laharl and company wouldn't even be here when they arrived tomorrow. He felt slightly guilty about this; part of him knew all too well that Jennifer and Gordon wanted to see the demon trio after all this time. Despite the trouble the three of them tended to bring the defenders of Earth considered them to be good friends, and missed them terribly.

He could imagine what Laharl would have to say about that.

Just to clarify a few things, Kurtis had no idea what trouble was brewing under his own beak. Clueless he was to the growing rift between Laharl and Flonne, not because he didn't care; and certainly not because he was oblivious. Come on! This was Kurtis! Gordon was supposed to be the oblivious one!

To put it simply, Kurtis was preoccupied. He too missed his friends, and was spending all of his time preparing himself for their inevitable return the next day. However, his blissful interlude of ignorance was about to come to a shattering halt.

The green prinny suddenly jumped as a loud discordant beeping shattered the peaceful silence.

"Dammit," he swore, looking mournfully down at a jumbled up scrawl, which had become illegible as his hand faltered. With a sigh, he reached into his pouch and pulled out what seemed to be a cell phone--only this one looked by far more high-tech than any communication device ever made. This baby was Kurtis's pride and joy--it was made specifically to be able to communicate with other people in other dimensions. He had only bestowed certain people with these devices--people he wanted to keep in touch with on a regular basis. The first went to Gordon so the idiot wouldn't become a stranger.

The other had gone to a quiet, yet oddly flamboyant purple prinny that Kurtis had befriended not too long ago. Although the guy gave him the creeps with his constant tirades about beauty and justice, he was terribly observant; and Kurtis knew he could trust him to look after Laharl, Etna, and Flonne. He had originally intended to give the communicator to Flonne, but that one incident in the lab had brought him to his senses. While the fallen angel certainly meant well, under no circumstances could she be expected to keep things a secret. She tended to forget things easily, had poor judgement when it came to realizing when she should keep her mouth shut, and could not lie under pressure. In fact, she couldn't lie at all. Etna had told him all about Maharl, and how Flonne, in a misguided attempt to protect the false princess from her "enemies," had stood directly in front of the table she was hiding under, spread her arms out like a sheild, and cried, "I swear to God she isn't hiding under this table!!!"

In other words, deception wasn't Flonne's forte.

No, it was the purple prinny--who Laharl and Etna tended to call Nerple for reasons unknown to him--who was better suited with the task of spying. And spy he did. Whenever Nerple got wind of any potential impulsive acts of stupidity on the Overlord's part--or his two vassals--Kurtis would be the first to know. And he would subtley see to it that their evil plans were foiled. None of this sabotage was ever traced back to him, as Kurtis had managed to keep his flippers very clean. Not even Etna had a clue.

Which suited Kurtis just fine.

To bring this long tirade to a close, the green prinny checked the caller I.D. and immediately saw Nerple's number flash up on the screen. Knowing that whatever news the prinny brought couldn't possibly be good, Kurtis tentatively flipped it open and muttered, "Hello?"

"Of all the stupid things!" Nerple's voice screamed out of the receiver. Kurtis had to hold it about a foot away from his sensitive ear-holes.

"What did Laharl do now?" he asked tiredly. "He's not coming back early, is he?"

"With this latest blunder, we'll be lucky to get back at all!" the purple prinny fumed on the other line. "Did you know he was planning on going to Celestia???"

This caught Kurtis's attention.

"Of course not. Why would I think he would be going there? You can't get into Celestia without an angel...!" A horrifying thought gripped him. "He didn't try breaking the barrier, did he?"

"Well, what do you think? Of course he did! My son is such an impulsive little son-of-a-gun...I bet he got it from his mother..."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, anyway, it didn't work, as you might have guessed. After firing all the guns at the barrier, the ship was completely trashed!"

Kurtis was a little annoyed at being brushed off like that. "Obviously you survived," he said coldly. "If the only reason you called was to rant to me, then I'm hanging up now."

"No, don't!" Nerple screamed. "Something terrible has happened, and I'm not even sure how to fix things...!"

It took twenty minutes for the prinny to explain the entire situation to Kurtis. From Laharl and Flonne's fight, to Vlanaar the persistant rival for the fallen angel's heart and his attack on the castle, all the way down to Laharl's almost suicidal drive to get to Celestia, find out what the hell was going on, and kill the Seraph. Right when Nerple was starting to tell him about the strange vortex they had gotten sucked into, Kurtis felt his peg-legs go weak, and he had to sit down.

"And why," he said, his mouth very dry, "didn't you tell me that all of this was going on???"

Nerple snorted in disbelief. "I didn't think you were so clueless as that, you know. Surely you had to have known what was happening...?"

"No idea," Kurtis mumbled, his face tinging pink in embarrassment.

"And they say Captain Gordon is clueless..."

Numbly, the green prinny hung up the phone, not caring that he was practically abandoning Nerple to stew in this mess. To be honest, Kurtis really didn't care.

"Well, shit," he said, staring blankly down at the set of blueprints. He didn't move for a long time.

* * *

Delyffe was completely bewildered. She had seen the blue light consuming the ship. She had sensed the presence of one with great, unholy power--someone strong enough to open up a rift between dimensions. She knew that they were being taken far away from Celestia merely by gut instinct.

But what she didn't know was who was behind it.

The crazed medic had strong suspicions that Vlanaar had something to do with this. After all, she was a hundred and ten percent certain that he had not left the ship like the others thought. It sounded entirely like something the love-blinded fool would do to protect his precious Yuri-chan. Blasphemer!

Then again, it was also possible that her Master had orchestrated this event. Perhaps this little diversion was his will being done. Maybe this round-about trip would lead them to Celestia, leaving them both victorious.

Considering both options, only one question remained: What was she supposed to do?

Delyffe frowned as she considered her options. On one hand her mission was to guide the Miracle safely to Celestia. On the other hand, she was ordered to do nothing that would reveal her connections to Vlanaar--in fact, she had been told not to interfere unless she was told. But that didn't sit to well with her.

She was a doer, not a waiter. If something eluded Delyffe, she searched ravenously for it until she clutched the answer tightly in her hands and squeezed all the air out of it. After all, finding answers was what kept her going. Revelation, knowledge, and the feeling of worth when she succeeded were the only fragments of her sanity that had remained whole after that terrible day.

Delyffe would sooner die than have that stolen from her.

Shuddering, she shut her door, allowing herself to be shrouded in darkness. It was her round-about reasoning that reminded her that darkness was her light, and with obscurity came that sharp, biting clarity that she craved so desperately--clarity about her own existence, and about the world she was trapped so mercilessly without sight--without answers.

She could only wait and hoped that the candle would be lit soon. In the dark, Delyffe prayed for epiphany.

What she didn't know was that she would get it--and in ways she certainly didn't expect.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know. This is one of the most boring and pointless chapters in the entire story. I apologize. I'm honestly incapable of writing anything decent right now, as I am currently struggling to keep myself from flunking out of school. See, if I don't get at least a C on my Calc final, I'll probably fail the class. And if my GPA gets low enough, I'll lose my funding for school and end up working at Wendy's full time. So I'm a teensy bit stressed.**

**However, I could not leave you, the dedicated readers, with no literary substanance for so long. Especially since it's likely that I won't be able to update until after Winter Break--God, I wish I had internet access at home. But what can I say? I live in a freaking cave.**


	16. Interlude Between Two Netherworlds

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea.**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Interlude Between Two Netherworlds**

Somewhere in another Netherworld, a girl with shoulder-length russet hair was being led into a large castle chistled out of the smoothest stone. It was polished so that she could see her own pale face looking fearfully back at her as her gaze moved past the walls and to the intimidating pair of huge ornate doors. She closed her eyes, hoping it was all a dream.

_It has to be a dream_, she thought frantically. _Especially those doors. Something that expensive would be stolen on the sight here in the Netherworld. These are demons, for crying out loud! They'd never keep their hands off them for a second. Oh, Poitreene! What have I gotten myself into?_

The girl looked sadly down at her own body. She had once been dressed in the garb of a demon hunter, for she had been a prominent--at least, very well-known--member of La Pucelle. But now she couldn't even recognize herself. Her curvy physique had been squeezed into a black leotard that cut off just over the top of her endowed bust, revealing more than she would have liked. A pair of brown tights hugged her thighs and disappeared into a pair of black boots about mid-calf. A crumpled white sash extended out of the back of the leotard and back again, taking the form of a figure eight, minus the curves. The only thing that she liked about this get-up was the flowing black sleeves with embrodiered cuffs. Anything embrodered was special, in her opinion, for it had to be custom made; at least, that was the case back home in Paprica--she wasn't so sure how things were done in the Netherworld.

_I can't believe this...any of this,_ she continued her mental tirade. _How could they do this to me??? Sister Alouette...she was supposed to be the one setting an example for all of us, that spiteful bat! And here she goes giving up on me...just because I slayed a couple dozen demon lords...where is her compassion anyway? And she calls herself a Maiden of Light!_

Jealousy tore through the girl, for she had had her own ambitions to become the Maiden of Light back when she was a demon hunter. However, as her journey with La Pucelle continued, it became increasingly more obvious that Sister Alouette had more of the disposition to be the Maiden of Light than she did. It bothered her immensely--and now...now there was no way she'd ever be the Maiden of Light...not now that she was a demon Overlord...

She looked morosely at the winds sprouting from her back, and laid a contemplative finger on the set of curving horns protruding from beneath her scalp. She stroked them tentatively, almost wishing that they would vanish at her touch. Shuddering, she pulled her hand away and went back to her silent fuming.

_And Culotte! He's supposed to be my brother! Why didn't he stick up for me??? Why did he just abandon me to this...nightmare?_

Angry tears welled up in her eyes, and the girl clutched her baton--her pride and joy weapon--tighter in her fist.

_I never abandoned him, not even when Mom and Dad died...so why?_

"Open these doors in the name of the Overlord!" the corrier demon screamed to the sentries inside the gates. Without hesitation, the doors were pushed open by the gate-keeper: a large, mean-looking manticore. He smirked at the sight of the approaching congregation.

"My liege," he boomed, descending in a sweeping bow. "It is a pleasure to serve such a powerful demon, Overlord Prier."

The girl, whose name was indeed Prier, merely sweatdropped. "Um...thanks?"

There was no time to exchange futher pleasantries, for the demon lords were hastily pushing her inside, closing the doors behind them with an ominous thud. Before Prier could even fathom what was happening, she had been guided down a long, darkened hallway, dimly lit with flaming sconces, that led to a distant set of doors. These too were pushed aside, and Prier found herself blinking stupidly at the sight before her.

"Oh...my...God...!"

Everything was glittering gold, as far as the eye could see. And you could bet more than what the gold was worth that Prier's awestruck brown eyes were ravenously eating it all up. She had never seen so much wealth in her entire life--not even when she went to play with Princess Eclair at her castle back in Paprica.

"All hail our new Overlord, Queen Prier!!!" the demons chorused, shoving her brusquely towards a shining throne.

Prier stumbled a few feet, glaring back at her servants for their boldness. But then, she decided that was how demons acted. They certainly lacked the tact that humans were born with...most of them, anyway. She sank wearily into her throne as she surveyed the faces that surrounded her. A mixture of strange monsters and succubi clustered around her person almost constantly, silently awaiting the beginning of their servitude. They looked so eager that it was starting to give her a headache.

_Aren't demons supposed to be ruthless and selfish?_ she wondered. _I would have bet my baton on it...until I met these guys...they act like puppy-dogs, the whole lot of them._

Prier sighed. "You really mean it, then, don't you?"

One of the larger monsters stepped forward, a frown--if that was a frown--on its heavily chiseled face. "Mean what, my Lord?"

"The Overlord thing!" she blurted. "You guys seriously are trying to have me as your ruler...??? What's the matter with all of you?!?"

"You have proven yourself in strength and in disposition," the nearest succubi replied. She had fiery red hair, swift green-gold eyes, and skin as pale as the milk bubbles at the bottom of the glass. She also had a body that would have sent Laharl to an early grave. Not that Prier knew who Laharl was.

But she would in good time.

"Who are you?" Prier demanded, trying to startle her subservients to vent some of her anger. The succubi boldly met her gaze, an amused smirk on her lips.

"I'm Jessamin," she said smoothly. "I'm a succubi."

"I already knew that!" the Overlord snapped, not liking her condescending tone. _At least she acts more like a demon than the others, though_, she added mentally. "I just...I just wanted to know who you were..."

"Indeed," said Jessamin, her grin revealing rows of neat, yet pointed white fangs. "And why would you want to know about little old me?"

"Because you're acting more genuine than the rest of these idiots," Prier muttered, burying her face in her hand. "Well? What are you waiting for? All of you are dismissed until further notice! I'll send for you if I need something done!"

The demons all exchanged glances, shrugged, and one by one moved out of the room. All except Jessamin.

"What?" Prier grumbled. "You need a special invitation?"

Jessamin merely regarded her with those sparkling eyes. "They don't know you," she told her bluntly. "All they know is your strength--that's why they're acting like this. They're trying to put you in a false sense of security while they decide whether or not you're really fit to rule over demons."

This came as a bit of a relief. "Oh," said the ex-demon hunter, relaxing a little. "And what if I'm not fit to rule?"

"We'll kill you," said Jessamin simply, smiling at her once more. "But I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. After all, you did slay twenty of our more powerful demon lords. Enjoy yourself for the time being."

The succubi turned and started to slink out of the throne-room, her hips swaying as though to music as she moved. Prier merely shook her head at this.

"Those are demons for you...always so...practical-minded."

Prier sensed Jessamin pausing at her words.

"Well, shouldn't we be?" she asked in a voice barely audible. "Hated by heaven and earth for staying true to our nature--we would have to be practical, otherwise we would have been wiped out a long time ago...by people like your La Pucelle."

Glancing out the window, Prier tried to make sense of the situation, but instead found herself lost in the landscape. She seemed to be enveloped in it, despite the fact that she was inside. For some reason, the room had been designed especially so that it was made of nothing except guilded windows. The stained glass emptied tinted light into the room, darkened by the setting sun. Deep shadows were cast against the floor, and in a strange way it reminded Prier of what she had left behind.

"Well," Prier replied, not looking up. "Maybe humans have to be practical too."

"I'd like to think that," said Jessamin with a frown. "In any case, I guess it's the same reason why we needed an Overlord to rule over us. Having a strong Overlord will protect us during dire times, and save us from the persecution of our enemies. Having a strong Overlord who lacks the qualities of a leader, however, gives the demon race a drive to become stronger--in hopes that one day, one of us might be strong enough to take power for ourselves."

"Makes sense, as barbaric as it sounds."

"I'm so glad you agree, my Lord."

Prier huffed quietly. God, this girl was cynical as hell. Sarcastic too.

"So, why is this room so...spacey?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

Jessamin raised a single eyebrow. "Don't you like the view?"

"It's not very defendable, is all," Prier replied.

"It's not supposed to be. This chamber is merely meant for ceremonies and formal occasions, not for battle."

Well," said Prier uncertainly. "I guess it's okay."

Jessamin rolled her eyes. This girl would need a lot of work before she would ever truly earn the name of Overlord.

* * *

Laharl gripped the railing tightly as the ship tossed and turned in an unseen current with only the blue light guiding them through the madness.

"Dammit, this is like a freaking roller coaster!!!" he snarled. He hated the fact that he was starting to get dizzy.

"Prince, look!" Etna cried, pointing towards the main screen. Laharl looked up and instantly regretted it. His stomach wrung itself into a knot as the sky seemed to tear open again in a pulse of azure. Through the gap in space, he could barely make out the scenery of...the Netherworld? He frowned at the sight, knowing that wherever they were about to be dumped, it certainly wasn't Celestia.

"We're going in, dood!"

Etna glared at the prinny for stating the obvious. "What are our coordinates?"

"The...the Netherworld, dood...it says we're about to crash into the Overlord's Castle, dood!"

"Oh, hell no!" Laharl growled. "Get your lazy asses into gear and steer this hunk of junk away from the castle. I am _not_ paying to have it repaired again for the sixth time this month!"

"Aye, aye, dood!"

They plummeted from the sky, the ship almost catching fire in the atmosphere as it went, screaming, to the ground. Everyone was rushing about in a panic, pushing buttons, pulling levers, anything that might somehow avert this disaster. However, despite everyone's efforts, it seemed as though they were about to crash into the castle. Laharl bit back a stream of curses, knowing that this was his fault and angry that he might actually die because of it. _And before I could even get to Celestia! Damn it!_ he thought bitterly as the ground rushed up to meet them.

The blue light returned, surrounding everyone on board. To their mild surprise (they were starting to get used to the light, as it had popped up so often) and immense relief, the ship was slowing down, and soon came to rest gently beside a spacious room in the castle. It took a while for the dust to settle, but when it did, Laharl's mind instantly went to work.

"What the hell was that?" he asked quietly, not expecting anyone to have a logical explanation for what just occurred. It occurred to him that maybe Seraph Lamington had somehow realized what was happening and sent them a blessing...but that didn't make sense. Why would any right minded individual save the person who was likely to come and kill them. Laharl still had an inclination to have this meeting end in murder, but it wasn't as strong as it used to be. Maybe the Seraph knew that and...

"No, God dammit! I won't have him playing me like some freaking marionnette!!!" Laharl screamed, causing everyone to jump.

"W-what are you talking about, Prince?" Etna stammered nervously, not in the mood for his random outburst.

"The Seraph! Dammit, he must be the one responsible!"

"How did you figure that out?" she asked, tail twitching in curiosity.

"Hmmph," Laharl muttered. "He just thinks that I'll let him off easy if he lends us a hand. Well, he's got a rude awakening coming up." Suddenly he remembered the girls still tucked away in his cabin and turned to Etna. "Go send someone to check on Flonne and her idiot sister."

"I thought you wanted them both to die?" said Etna, smirking at him.

"I...dammit, don't argue with me! I need them both alive for now if I'm going to get into Celestia!"

"Uh, huh," she said sarcastically. "You know, Prince, maybe you should just let your pride go for just one minute and admit that you really care about Flonne. I mean, think about it--it was your pride and stubborness that almost got us all killed."

Laharl grumbled, but couldn't deny it--even though it made him feel like breaking something.

"She doesn't deserve this, Laharl," Etna said fervently. "You know she doesn't. She loves you, not that Vlanaar jerk."

The demon king's head snapped up in surprise. This was the first time he had ever heard her call him by his name. "You want me to apologize? After she...she..."

"What?" she demanded. "Happened to be in the same room as Vlanaar when he snuck on board? You know how ruthless he was the last time he attacked! You should be glad taht Flonne wasn't killed just then!"

Laharl fell silent. That _would_ explain why Ozonne had been so defensive of Flonne. "I'll...consider it. Now go send someone to find her, or else!"

Etna smiled. "Sure thing, Prince."

* * *

From inside the castle, Prier blinked up at the ship in astonishment. "Is this some kind of weird test?" she muttered, coming closer to the window. Then it occurred to her that the ship might be a bomb, and drew away. She thought carefully for a moment before reaching a decision.

"I can see this thing better from the air...hey, wait! I have wings now!"

Prier spread her large bat-like wings to their full length, admiring them for the first time. Smirking to herself, she swept out of the throne room and navigated the halls, searching for the stair-well to the nearest tower. It only took her half a minute to pry the information out of a terrified servant--the baton had come in handy here--and raced up the stairs, kicking open the door to the roof. Stepping out into the open air, she looked down at the air-craft in dismay.

"I never saw anything like it. Maybe it's an invasion squad," she mused. "Anyway, I have to find out. Here I go!"

Spreading her wings, Prier closed her eyes and held her breath as she stepped off the ledge, plummeting a few yards before she frantically set to flapping her wings. A gust of wind swept by, carrying the Overlord on the breeze. She opened her eyes and found herself gliding down towards the ship. It only took a few moments for her demon instincts to set in, and she moved the joints and muscles of her wings to catch the wind. Within minutes she had gotten the hang of flying, and was examining the ship with ease.

"Hey, isn't this...a human space ship?"

To her knowledge, the humans of Paprica had never been so technologically advanced to create something like this. But the side of the ship did say Earth Defense Squad on it. That was certainly weird. Then she remembered the old stories Father Salade would tell her of other dimensions, where alternate Earths and Netherworlds existed. Could these people perhaps be from another Earth?

Well, she was half right, anyway.

Suddenly, the door to the ship was blasted open--a sight that caused Prier to falter slightly as she turned in mid-air; she was so startled that she almost fell out of the sky. Squinting towards the damaged craft, she saw the last person she ever expected to cause such damage. It was a young teenage boy, whose rigid antennae hair failed to distract her from the pair of angry red eyes glaring at her castle. His velvet cape seemed to bristle as he regarded his surroundings.

"You idiots!" he screamed back inside the ship. "This isn't my castle! So where the hell are we?"

Prier decided that it was time to exercise some authority over the situation. After all, she was the overlord now.

"I believe I can answer that," she called, perching on one of the towers as she gazed down at them. As the boy turned his intense gaze upon her she saw another girl climb out of the main hatch. She had her red hair tied up in pigtails and wore a rather skimpy outfit made entirely of leather...or so it seemed.

"Hey, Prince," the girl yelled at the boy. "Try not to get into any fights you can't win, okay?"

"Shut up, Etna!" he snapped. The short-tempered boy then turned to Prier. "And who the hell are you!?"

She smirked to herself. "My name's Prier, and I'm the ruler of this place."

The girl named Etna stepped forward, her arms wrapped around her head as she looked curiously up at Prier. "And where are we, exactly?" she asked.

Prier sweat-dropped. "You guys can't seriously be telling me that you wandered this far into the Netherworld and not realize!"

"The Netherworld?" Etna repeated, her eyebrows going up. "Well, I guess this does look a little familiar..."

"No way," said the boy stubbornly. "You're lying."

"And who the hell are you to be making that accusation?" Prier demanded angrily. Threateningly she pulled her baton out of her sleeve, looking more than ready for a fight.

"Me?" he said snidely. "I'm the _real_ overlord, King Laharl!!!"

"Now who's the liar?" Prier snapped. "I was just crowned Overlord an hour ago! Dumb-ass!"

Laharl gritted his teeth in anger. "I get it. Those bastards went and replaced me while I was away. Damn them! I'll get my throne back if it's the last thing I do!!!" He drew his sword and got into a battle stance. "The Seraph can wait!"

Prier blinked. "The Seraph...?"

"Quit your yapping and draw your weapon, you fat bitch!"

That did it. Prier's entire body became instantly consumed in angry blue flames as she glared down at Laharl. "You don't know who you're dealing with, you little terd. When I'm done with you, you're going to wish I had only been your worst nightmare!"

"I said, shut up and fight!" Laharl snapped, getting impatient.

"Um, Prince," Etna interrupted as a sudden thought occurred to her.

"Not now, Etna! Dammit, I told you to go check up on Flonne!!!"

"Don't bother," came a voice from behind them. Prier, Laharl, and Etna all looked to see an angel girl furiously striding into view, almost upsetting the green bandana-hat on her head. Clamping it down to her blonde scalp, Ozonne glared at Laharl. "I left her in the cabin and went to see where the hell you had run off to. She's as cold as ice!"

Laharl sniffed in disdain. "She's been like that. What about it?"

"How long has she been sick?" Ozonne demanded.

"I don't have time for this, dammit! Can't you see I'm busy?!?"

"How...long...?!?"

Laharl let out a noise of frustration, but resisted the temptation of murdering the angel on the spot. After all, he needed her to get into Celestia. "Oh, for the love of...a few days!!! Now leave me the hell alone!"

"Wait," said Prier, frowning slightly. "You have a sick person on board?"

"What's it to you?" Laharl snapped.

She had remembered back to the good times she had with La Pucelle; how the sick and the poor would come to them for food, shelter, and sometimes comforting when life's struggles wore them down. And Father Salade and Sister Alouette would never turn them away. There was only one person they had ever cast away, and that was...Prier. _Dammit, I won't be like them! I'll do better! I won't turn anyone away, even if they're an enemy!_

"We have more than enough resources here to care for this Flonne if you're interested," Prier offered. "I promise I won't do anything underhanded or anything while you're here, either. I'm not really a demon, you know."

"You have wings and horns," said Laharl flatly. "Of course you're a demon."

Prier rolled her eyes. "I was a _human_ once. I've only been in this demon body for...I dunno...a week, I guess."

"Just like a human to be ambitious enough to take a demon's throne," he sighed.

"I'll get your ship repaired and let you stay for dinner."

Laharl's ears twitched at the mention of food. "It's not canned tuna, is it?"

"This isn't chicken-of-the-sea we're talking about, here," said Prier tiredly. "I mean a real, five-star feast!"

"Fine," he said in defeat. "But let me warn you right now--if there's so much of a whiff of canned tuna within ten yards of me, all bets are off. Also," he added, looking somber, "I'm entrusting a fallen angel named Flonne into the care of your...vassals. If anything happens to her, you will personally die a horrible, painful, brutal death. Understand?"

"God, no need to start in with the threats! She'll be fine!"

Laharl still looked dubious, but he knew he could not turn down this offer of hospitality--even if it had been given to him on a silver platter by someone who appeared to be usurping his throne. "Just remember who the real overlord is, got it?"

Prier merely huffed and turned her back on him, flying through the open window to give her vassals the orders to open the gates.

"Prince," Etna whispered. "Listen to me!"

"What?" he snapped.

"I don't think she was lying about the overlord thing! Look at the castle; it's different from our old one."

He thought about it for a moment. Yes, it was certainly strange that the castle had been completely remodeled in the mere span of a few days. His vassals never worked that hard or that quickly, even if it was in a plot against his own life. They were lazy and disrespectful to the bone.

"The prinnies told us that we were in the Netherworld."

"Well, I don't think they were specific about _which_ Netherworld," said the demon girl with a sigh.

"You mean..." Laharl said slowly. "We're not in _our_ Netherworld? Crap! How did I miss that?"

"You were too busy ranting and being all high and mighty," Etna replied. "And speaking of your machoness, when are you planning on apologizing to Flonne?"

Laharl went rigid. He turned to Ozonne, who was now watching him with an unnerving amount of...interest...and said, "Go look after that love freak sister of yours. I don't want any dead bodies on board my ship."

The angel looked startled, but managed to recover herself long enough to stick her tongue out at him before she was obliged to follow his orders. Although she would never have bended to someone else's will so easily, she was also worried about Flonne herself. So she allowed herself to think it had been her own idea and left quickly.

Laharl, satisfied to see her leave, started to think quietly to himself. Somehow the idea of going out of his way to find Flonne, get her to listen to him, and actually admit that he had done something wrong was odius to him. He would sooner join the Prism Rangers. And yet...did he really have much of a choice? He hated to admit it, but he found the rift between them to be...insufferable. It was the same reason why he couldn't accept her being with that Vlanaar guy. It was the same reason why he couldn't just let her go, even though she was so much of a love freak that it made him nauseous on certain occasions. It was the same reason why he had snapped when it seemed as if the Seraph had killed her.

It was the same reason why he was going to Celestia on this manhunt; now that it seemed like he was manipulating her again.

"I can't..." he murmured.

"Why not?"

"Well...she's such a...I mean...she won't..."

"Listen to you?" Etna suggested while raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be surprised considering the way you've been acting lately. But Flonne _is_ a love freak, like you were about to say. If anyone will listen to you, I bet it'll be her."

Laharl gave her a scrutinizing glare. "Why do you care so much, anyway? What's in it for you if I apologize?"

Etna rolled her eyes. "You guys are both annoying the crap out of me with your petty argument. I just want things to go back to normal so I can plot against you in peace, and occasionally pull pranks on you with Flonne. _That_ is how things should be, moron."

It was the simplest expression that she could give him, but it was for that reason alone that Laharl felt compelled to believe her. "Fine," he said grumpily.

"Why don't you wait until after dinner," she suggested. "I can make sure you two are alone...and then you can let those romantic sparks fly, Prince!"

"Dammit, I will not! I'm apologizing, but that's it!!!" Laharl fumed. But inwardly he thought that maybe he wouldn't mind having Flonne in his grasp again. Against his will he thought of their kiss and felt the blood rising rapidly into his head. _That was a mistake,_ he told himself. _I never should have done that. She better not be expecting a kiss, because she's not getting one! I refuse! I..._ Again, the image filled his mind and he let out a roar of frustration, brushing roughly past Etna and storming back into the ship.

Etna stared after the overlord, who was now abusing as many innocent bystanding prinnies as he could get his hands on. She let out a slow whistle. "Wow," she said quietly. "I knew he wanted her, but I never imagined he wanted her _this_ badly. Flonne is so lucky."

She froze. She _couldn't_ have meant what it sounded like. No way.

"I mean, since she's in love with him and everything...of course she's lucky that he wants her, right? I'm not jealous of that...what do I need a boyfriend for?" she added hastily to herself. Then, she slumped over and gave it up. "Forget it...I'm not even going to try to rationalize that one. I'm losing it," she muttered, shaking her head dolefully before following Laharl back into the ship. The others would have to be told of this recent development.

* * *

**A/N: And so, this is my version of how Laharl meets Prier. I just thought I'd try a different spin on things--like Prier resenting being abandoned by her friends, despairing over her demon body, etc. And Laharl just comes by to make things worse.**

**Poor Flonne wasn't in this chapter! But don't worry; I'm giving her a major role in the next one. And before you all bite my head off for what Etna said at the end of the chapter, let me clarify one thing. Etna does not love Laharl in my story--she's just a little envious that Flonne has someone in her life who cares that deeply about her. Plus, she can see what kind of a sap it makes Laharl into, and that's always a plus. I am NOT trying to flood this fic with love triangles. One or two is enough to work with, thank you very much.**

**And finally, I just want to know if I should include more La Pucelle references in this story. Should I go further into explaining what happened to the rest of the characters--Culotte, Alhouette, Croix, Eclair, Homard, Papillon, and Father Salade? Maybe I should have the Disgaea gang briefly meet them as they pass through Paprica to get to Celestia or something. I dunno, it's just an idea--I'm just not sure how many detours the group can take without going completely off tangent. Let me know what you think in a review, and preferably not a PM because I can't access my e-mail account at the moment.**

**Thanks for reading! And please review!**

**P.S. Sorry it took so long to update!!! I will make it up to you all in the form of more Disgaea fics on the way! Yay!**


	17. Inadequacy, Thy Name Is

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea. Now quit wasting your time reading this disclaimer and read the next chapter. Or, better yet, why not take the valuable time that you normally waste reading disclaimers and take the time to review instead. For those of you who actually do review, thank you, and please disregard my rant. **

**By the way, I know I already promised to post this chapter yesterday--unfortunately, I had some unexpected obligations to take care that completely threw me off. Never have siblings if you can help it--especially ones young enough to need a babysitter.**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Inadequacy, Thy Name Is...**

Flonne had been surprised to hear from her sister that they were back in the Netherworld. However, as things were, she had been shivering from cold and uncertainty—it was a chill that sank through countless sheets and blankets and flooded her body, just like before. So it really wasn't surprising that she didn't have any significant reaction to Ozonne's news.

That didn't stop the angel from worrying, however…

"That asshole overlord tells me you've been sick for days," she said accusingly as she strode in through the doorway. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Flonne, who was heavily cloaked in the comforter from the bed, merely glanced up at Ozonne with a disinterested expression. "I don't know," she replied honestly.

"That's not an answer! What are your symptoms?"

"I'm cold," she said. "And I'm tired. Now can you please leave me alone, Ozonne?"

She hadn't meant to be rude. However, she was annoyed at Ozonne for being so bossy and overbearing—more so than she could ever remember her being. Flonne knew that she was generally protective of the people she cared about, but this was ridiculous.

"Actually," said Ozonne, looking grumpy, "we've been invited in to have dinner."

"With the Seraph?" Flonne asked, looking up.

"No, you dork! We're not even in Celestia yet! We're back in the Netherworld, or so I hear. Anyway, that Laharl-jerk is all mad because someone else is claiming to be overlord."

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "Not another challenger…"

"I dunno," Ozonne commented. "But she's gone and invited us all to have dinner with her. And if you're smart, you won't touch anything she gives you. Between this feud between her and that moron with the cape, I wouldn't be surprised if the food she gives us is poisoned."

Flonne shrugged. She really could care less.

"Anyway," she continued, not at all bothered by her sister's silence, "we've got to get you ready. Now, I'm thinking," she said as she rummaged through the closet, looking for something decent for Flonne to wear, "you would look better in red. Normally I'd say blue, but you're eyes aren't blue anymore…" Ozonne grumbled at bit at this, as though it were some major inconvenience she would have to deal with. "Dammit, these are all boys' clothes!"

"This is Laharl's room," Flonne mentioned weakly, pulling herself into a sitting position. "He won't like you rummaging through his things."

"If this is _his_ room, then what were _you_ doing in his bed?" Ozonne asked with a funny look on her face.

If Flonne had not been so exhausted, she would have looked flustered and confused. Instead, she merely gave her sister a blank look. "Sleeping."

At this point Ozonne was about to explode with questions when all of a sudden there was a noise from the doorway. The two girls turned to look and saw Delyffe standing there, a serene smile on her face.

"Hello, Flonne…" she said in a lethally soft voice.

The fallen angel immediately tensed with fear for whatever messed up therapy she was about to endure. "I…I'm not Flonne," she attempted with a squeak.

"Oh, please," said Delyffe, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm blind, not retarded. I can recognize that terrified whimper anywhere."

Something about Flonne's expression caused Ozonne to switch from offensive to defensive faster than a set of traffic lights. "Who are you?" she demanded, her green eyes nothing but slits.

The healer's smile grew wider. "My name is Delyffe, servant of Lord Laharl and the personal physician of the lady cowering beneath the sheets behind you. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"What are you doing here?" Ozonne snapped, not wasting any time on mere pleastantries.

"I have received orders to check up on the health of Miss Flonne. After that climatic accident we just experienced, I thought that she might be suffering complications."

"Yeah, right. How do I know you're not going to do anything sick to my sister?"

Delyffe merely nodded her head, as though she found the statement reasonable. "I've been alone in her presence several times. If I wanted to harm her, I could have done so long before you reared your ugly head, miss."

Ozonne's face became a blotchy red. "What did you just say?!?"

"Deaf and stupid, not a promising combination now, is it?" Delyffe sighed, pushing past her and standing beside Flonne, who had decided to come out of her raggedy shelter of blankets against her better judgement.

"That wasn't nice," the fallen angel told the healer. "Please apologize!"

The authority in her voice was so strange considering that it was coming from Flonne of all people. Delyffe paused when she detected it, her smile fading slightly. It reminded her of her old mistress, one she used to serve before she started taking orders directly from the dark presence in her room.

"Of course," she chirped, the smile returned fresh and chipper to her face. Unfortunately, it only made her look more frightening than before. "Pardon me," she told Ozonne. "My comments were not in good taste."

"I'll give you good taste," Ozonne snarled, balling her hand into a fist. "I'll knock every damn tooth out of your mouth so that the only thing you can taste for months will be creamed corn!!!"

Delyffe looked pained, as though she wanted to say something nasty but couldn't.

"Your sister has quite the sense of humor, doesn't she, Miss Flonne?"

The girls all tensed up. Flonne was apprehensive about the imminent argument begtween her sister and the healer, knowing that it couldn't possibly end well. However, in the midst of this calm before the storm, none of them noticed the purple prinny watching them through the crack in the door...

"Interesting...dood..."

* * *

"What the hell is taking them so long?" Laharl snapped, checking his watch for the umpteenth time.

As to what exactly he was waiting for, it couldn't be more obvious—at least, it was to Etna, who was standing next to him dressed in a sparkling and suggestive red cocktail dress. Hearing Laharl's impatient outburst, she merely rolled her eyes, leaning against the hull of the badly damaged space craft in boredom.

"Dammit!!! I told them to be out here and ready by six! It's already a quarter past! What do they need, a special invitation?!?"

"Oh, quit fretting," Etna chided him. "Flonne probably needs more time to get ready considering she's sick and all. Are you sure it's a good idea to let her come to this dinner?"

Laharl turned to Etna. "Delyffe said that she wasn't hurt in the crash. Not that I care, but…"

"Cut the crap and get to the point."

"The only thing that's wrong with her is that chill she's got," he sighed. "Satisfied?"

"Not really," said Etna. "Look, I know you want to apologize and all, but can't you do that after dinner? You don't have to compromise her health or anything, Prince."

"I'm not. She's fine. Get over it."

"I think someone's in denial," the demon girl murmured to herself. However, she quickly got over Laharl's stubbornness when she heard the door to the ship opening. She glanced up at the girls standing in the doorway and felt her eyebrows rising into her scalp. _Well, that should catch the Prince's attention, all right…_

"There you are!" Laharl snarled, wheeling around to face Flonne and Ozonne. "Do you have any idea how long I…I…uh…"

He seemed frozen. Without warning at all, he found himself gawking—yes, gawking—at a complete stranger…or so he thought. She was dressed in a flowing black evening gown that descended past her slender ankles and melted in a puddle on the floor. Laharl privately thought that the color served her well as it contrasted pleasantly with her long, cascading blonde hair. Her ruby eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

If Laharl hadn't noticed the black lacy ribbon tied in a bow on her head, he wouldn't have even recognized Flonne. He had never seen her dressed like this before.

"Black?" Etna commented, smirking at the sight. "I would have thought that a goody two-shoes would have worn something pink…or white…or blue…but black?"

"It was the only thing we could come up with on such short notice," Ozonne snapped, irritable in her green dress, which brought out the color of her eyes. "Thank God Rozen Queen could rush deliver these, or we'd be toast."

"Rush deliver?" Laharl mumbled, starting to return to his senses. "You mean they sent these through a dimensional gate? To the ship? How much HL did that cost???"

"Not much," said Flonne quietly, hoping that her sister would let her stand on her own. "These were on sale, so only 10, 000 HL…"

"WHAT?!?"

"…each…" she added softly, hiding behind Ozonne.

"YOU SPENT ALL THAT MONEY FOR A BUNCH OF RAGS LIKE THOSE??? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GOD-DAMNED MIND, LOVE FREAK?!?"

**A/N: Yes, I am using full caps, everyone. I know I'm not J.K. Rowling, but whatever. I kind of don't care. Laharl's yelling his guts out, that's all you need to worry about right now.**

"At least he's talking to you again," Ozonne told Flonne in an undertone as she nervously played with the ribbon on her head. She was getting edgy under Laharl's intense glare. "And cut that out! You're going to mess up your hair!"

"Sorry," Flonne mumbled, and no one knew if she was addressing Laharl, Ozonne, or both of them at once. _I guess he didn't like the dress, after all…_ she thought sadly.

As a matter of fact, he _did_ like the dress. But Laharl would sooner eat Flonne's home-cooking than admit that out loud. He didn't like that appreciative squirming feeling in his gut, and felt heat rising to his face. As his gaze skimmed across her bare shoulders he suddenly got the urge to trace his fingertips across her collar-bone.

Laharl couldn't stand looking at her anymore. Before he could accidentally reveal just what he thought of Flonne in that dress, he turned away from her, blushing furiously.

"Whatever. It's coming out of your salary, moron." Flonne averted her gaze, hurt by the overlord's indifference. "Now let's get going. I want to see what this Prier bitch thinks she's about by calling herself an Overlord."

* * *

Prier pulled nervously at her dress, which could be classified as both ostentatious and revealing. "Am I really supposed to wear this?" she asked.

Jessamin, who stood beside her in the main banquet hall, merely sighed and nodded.

"I thought that I only had to wear this for important occasions…diplomatic things, you know?"

_No proper etiquette, _Jessamin thought. She forced a smile onto her face.

"If everything you told me is true, then there's a good chance that that kid in the cape really is an overlord," she explained in a silky voice. "Since we're dealing with a potential ruler of another Netherworld, this is an important occasion."

"I know, I know," Prier grumbled. "I'm not an idiot, you know. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I need to find out what he's up to and how he got here. Why do you think I invited him to dinner?"

"Touchy," was all Jessamin said.

"Sheesh, I just wanted to know what the dress was for!"

The succubi gave her a half-incredulous look. "You're joking, right?"

"Um...no. I'm not."

"Do I have to tell you everything?" Jessamin sighed. "That dress is to help you seduce the poor bastard!"

"I'm not into younger men," Prier snapped, blushing furiously. "And besides, he doesn't seem to like women with…curves…" She frowned as she remembered his snide comment about her weight, and had to suppress the urge to put her fist through a wall.

"Exactly. Use his weakness against him, and when the time is right you can kill him and his friends!"

The overlord frowned. "That's completely underhanded. How do I even know this punk is a threat? It seems to me that he got here by accident. Hell, he didn't even know where he was, and when I told him he was in the Netherworld he really flipped a shit."

"Doesn't matter," Jessamin replied. "It could all be a ruse to steal your throne. You need to be prepared for these kinds of things, especially due to your…inexperience."

Prier flushed with anger.

"To be frank," the succubi continued, "the vassals were planning on testing your abilities as an overlord at some point…but the arrival of this King Laharl person was the best opportunity we ever could have imagined."

"A test…so this is what this is?"

"Well, it certainly isn't a tea party."

She turned away from Jessamin, getting increasingly angry as she imagined her vassals—whom she didn't even want in the first place—plotting and manipulating her to suit their own needs. Gritting her teeth, she hissed:

"Just what is it you want me to do, then?"

"This Overlord is a potential threat—and even if he isn't, you could always take his throne and add it to your own domains. Create an empire, you know? Either way, you have to get rid of him."

"So, you want me to kill them all? They didn't even do anything to us!"

Jessamin made a clicking sound with her tongue. "You seem so opposed to the plan. It's not that hard you know. All you have to do is poison their food or something. Simple."

"I won't do it!" Prier snapped, wheeling around towards her in rage. "If they're really a threat to us, then I'll fight them and defeat them myself when they attack! But I will _not_ under any circumstances harm a guest to this castle!"

"Your humanity is showing," the succubi sighed. "Maybe you _don't_ have what it takes to be overlord after all…what a shame."

Before Prier could retort, Jessamin turned and walked away from her, going off to finish the preparations for the feast. The once-human girl simply fumed as she watched her vanish around a corner, muttering to herself.

"Hmmph…she doesn't know what she's talking about…! I have what it takes…don't I? They're the ones who forced me to take the stupid throne in the first place. I just want to go home…and become the Maiden of Light, like I was supposed to…"

The more she thought of La Pucelle, the more Prier was reminded of her friends and her family, all of whom abandoned her because she allegedly became "drunk with power." Alhouette…Culotte…neither of them so much as raised a hand to stop her from leaving. They just stood there solemnly as those monsters took her away…

"Maybe what they said is true," Prier sighed. "I certainly wasn't any closer to becoming Maiden of Light when I started looking for the Dark Prince. Actually, Alhouette was more suited to the job…at least, it seemed that way. Oh…! Dammit! This is no good! I can't just sit here feeling sorry for myself!!!" She jumped up and clenched her fists in determination. "I'm the overlord now! I have a feast to plan…!"

She paused, considering what Jessamin told her. _She thinks that I won't be a good overlord just because I refuse to poison that kid and his friends…Is that what an overlord does? Destroys her enemies in any way she can…even if it's completely below the belt? I can't do this! But…if I don't…what will happen if my vassals decide I'm not fit to be an Overlord? I don't have anywhere else to go now that I look like this! _

Prier sighed, hating her new demon body more and more. But what could she do? She was a demon now, and like it or not, she had to poison Laharl and the others. That was what an overlord had to do…she didn't have a choice.

Or did she?

* * *

Flonne wished she hadn't chosen a strapless gown. She was freezing!

_But Laharl need information, so I'll have to just bear with it for now_, she thought to herself.

Biting her lip and trying hard not to quaver as she walked up the palace steps, Flonne noticed that the stone gargoyles seemed to be looking at her curiously. It was as if they solely recognized her out of the entire party. _I've seen these before...stone guardians to guard the gates...but why are they looking at me like that? Laharl is much stronger than I am...shouldn't they be concerned with him?_

The large ornate doors opened with a flourish, and the group found itself staring at the lithe, scantily-clad Prier. She had a reluctant expression on her face, as though she'd rather be doing a thousand things than inviting them inside her castle.

"Welcome," she said. "I hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight...and I apologize for our misunderstanding earlier," she added, addressing Laharl.

"..."

Flonne looked over at him, wondering why he was so quiet. Then she saw that Laharl had literally turned purple. He kept his gaze focused on the ground, but it didn't seem to be helping him much. Everything about Prier screamed seduction, from the way she moved all the way through her tone of voice. It bothered the crap out of him.

"Laharl...?"

"Oh," Prier murmured, looking over at the fallen angel. "I haven't seen you before. Are you Flonne?"

Flonne gave her a clumsy curtsey. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Prier-san."

"Please, Prier is fine. And the pleasure is all mine, really."

She smiled. Well, this girl seemed friendly enough, at least. When Flonne had heard she would be dining with another overlord, she had imagined someone like Laharl: grumpy and short-tempered, yet ridiculously powerful. Yet all she saw was a kind girl in a revealing evening gown.

"Are you cold?" Prier asked her, ending her train of thought.

Flonne jumped. "I...how can you t-tell?"

"You're shivering a little..."

Ozonne, who was standing beside her sister and watching her like a hawk, merely scoffed. "What do you expect? She's sick."

"Oh! Yeah, I remember now," said Prier. "Well, don't worry about anything, Flonne. We have more than enough healers here to tend to you during your stay."

Laharl gulped. He despised the fact that he was being ignored--hell, the love freak was getting more attention than he was, and he was an overlord for crying out loud!!! However, try as he would, he just couldn't bring himself to lift his gaze to Prier. However, he settled for glaring at Flonne's bare back, which he seemed to prefer looking at far more. "Hey, dammit!" he snarled. "What does it take to get something to eat around here?!?"

Prier dropped the hostess act like a gunshot. Planting her hands on her hips, she snapped, "Well, excuse me! Fine, just follow me...though you're lucky I don't throw you out for that kind of attitude!"

"Attitude! HA! You're one to talk, you know..." Laharl retorted. "I can't tell which is bigger: your own attitude, or your breasts."

"Sheesh," Etna commented to Flonne. "The Prince sure feels threatened right about now. I've never seen him so...hostile. It's like he got backed into a corner or something."

The fallen angel privately agreed. It wasn't strange that Laharl was having this reaction--she too had noticed Prier's endowed figure and realized what it must have been doing to him. Part of her didn't like that he had a more significant reaction to the overlord than he did to the sight of herself--Flonne--in a dress. Perhaps if she was bustier...hmmm...

Prier led them all down a hallway lit up with flaming sconces. Laharl, who was desperate to look at anything but his hostess, noticed this and reluctantly admitted that it was a nice touch. If he wasn't already certain of his unmatchable strength, he would have been a little uneasy. Only a little. Other people, Flonne for example, were feeling quite intimidated at the sight. Laharl had never had anything quite like this decorating his hallways--but that was because of that one New Year's party (which involved heavy amounts of liquor, by the way) that ended in one of the prinnies claiming that he had been a fire-eater in a traveling circus when he was alive; and in an attempt to demonstrate his skills, he not only failed to ingest the flame, but also somehow managed to set Laharl's favorite cape on fire.

That particular prinny had never been seen again.

Finally, they had reached what appeared to be a banquet hall. Standing on either side of the doorway was a heavy knight, brow furrowed and mouth shut, standing at attention. Prier nodded at them and they pushed the doors open.

"Oh, wow," said Etna, impressed against her will. Beside her, Flonne looked astounded while Ozonne merely rolled her eyes.

"Yeah? I've seen better in Celestia," she commented. "Seraph Lamington has a chandelier more than twice the size this one is. And the jewels shine more."

"Shut the hell up!!!" Laharl snarled. "I don't care how frickin fancy that bastard can be!!!"

"Oh, really?" Etna smirked. "You sound jealous."

"**_I said, shut up!!!_**"

Flonne sighed. They hadn't even sat down, and they were already arguing. This was going to be a long dinner.

* * *

Kurtis didn't know what the hell he was supposed to have done. He felt like a complete moron for not realizing that something major was going down. However, there wasn't much he could do about it at this point--he already had an impending visit from Gordon, Jennifer, and Thursday to deal with; it wasn't like he was free to chase after Laharl, Etna, and Flonne.

To distract himself, he decided to tinker around with that breast-pump he had been working on for Jennifer. Unfortunately, his thoughts wouldn't let him rest, and instead of distracting himself from the mess Laharl had gotten himself into, he couldn't stop thinking about it. After five minutes of staring at the unfinished machine, he finally sighed and tossed the wrench aside.

"God," he muttered. "It's been so long since I've done anything worth while to them...to anyone."

He pushed himself away from the work station and trudged morosely through the castle. When he had heard that Gordon and Jennifer were expecting, he had instantly been reminded of his own wife when she had been pregnant with his daughter...now both of them were dead, and technically so was he.

Kurtis smiled bitterly. That didn't stop him from getting completely sucked into the prospect. A part of him ached where his family used to be; he missed that part of his life terribly, and would have done anything to get it back. Even if it meant living through his friend and rival as he stumbled blindly into fatherhood--even after he himself was...sort of...dead.

The green prinny paused as a beeping noise suddenly echoed through the lining of his money pouch. Without hesitation he reached in and rummaged around for the walkie talkie. The caller must have been extremely patient since it took him several minutes to sift through the rocket fists and knives and retrieve the hand-held communication device.

"Hello?"

"I can't believe you hung up on me," a familiar french-accented voice complained. "That was...unforgivable!"

**A/N: Okay, I'm dropping major hints at the caller's ID. If you seriously can't figure it out, go back and play the first game another bazillion times.**

"Oh! Nerple," Kurtis said, vaguely surprised. "I guess you survived after all. How are you?"

"Funny you should ask," Nerple replied. "That vortex I was telling you about earlier? It opened up into another Netherworld."

"Another...wait, you mean in another dimension???"

"Yes, and it's ruled by a...er...charming mademoiselle by the name of Prier. I talked to the prinnies in her staff, and it seems as if she had only recently been made an overlord."

"So the rumors about other Netherworlds _were_ true," said Kurtis thoughtfully.

"Indeed," said Nerple. "But I have more pressing matters, my friend. Is there anything you can tell me about a healer named Delyffe?"

Kurtis took the phone away from his ear hole, stared at it, and then spoke into the receiver. "Delyffe, you said? That cracked up psycho Laharl's got down in his medical wing? Believe me, I try _not_ to know anything about her. That girl scares the crap out of me just by showing up in conversation. Why?"

"Did you know that she's become Flonne's personal physician?"

"Is Laharl out of his mind?!?" Kurtis gasped. "What the hell could he be thinking by putting Flonne's welfare into the hands of a nut like that? Unless...but no, I doubt that."

"What?"

"Well, it's not secret that Delyffe is good at what she does," the green prinny conceded. "It's said that no healer has ever gotten a patient out of the ward quicker without killing their patient. Personally, though, I always thought that that was because Delyffe frightened all her patients into leaving as quickly as possible."

"I don't trust her," Nerple confided in him. "She's taken such an unnatural interest in Flonne...it goes beyond the role of a servant. She watches the poor mademoiselle like a hawk, and tends to her needs before she could even open her mouth to ask. She acts more like a...a...disciple or something."

"That's strange."

"It's not just strange; it's creepy! The way she acts, it's like she's expecting Flonne to vanish right under her nose. I wonder if she knows something we don't."

Kurtis smiled wryly. "Right now, everyone knows something I don't. But I'll try to find out more about Delyffe if I can."

"Thank you," said Nerple. "Unfortunately, I have to go now. The gang is having dinner with Overlord Prier, and I just want to do a little digging around of my own..."

Before the green prinny could reply, the purple prinny simply hung up on him. It had been a quiet revenge for getting hung up on the last time they had spoken. Kurtis shook his prinny head and sighed.

"Well, at least now I have something to do," he said, pocketing the phone and stepping out into the hallway. He took a right and went down a flight of stairs leading down into the medical wing. Done were the days when Kurtis, ex-defender of Earth, was out of the loop. He was a new man...er...prinny.

* * *

**A/N: Everyone is feeling inadequate. Flonne suddenly fears that Laharl will be swept off his feet by Prier. And Prier finds herself trapped in the web of her vassals' influence. Will she be able to prove to them that she has what it takes to be overlord? More importantly, will she be able to prove it to herself??? And just what is Nerple the purple prinny up to?**

**The next chapter is going to deal strongly with inner conflicts as Prier struggles between the decision of poisoning Laharl and the others, and simply letting them go free. And yes, I know Laharl was supposed to apologize, but remember that plot discrepancy I mentioned on my profile? I originally had Laharl apologize to Flonne before they stepped into the banquet hall. However, I realized that he had been so disarmed by Prier's dress that he couldn't even think straight, so obviously an apology--a difficult feat for Laharl in and of itself--was not going to happen any time soon. Plus, I looked at the old chapters and saw that Etna had suggested that he wait until after dinner.**

**With the apology cut out, my chapter had been shortened dramatically, so I decided to take the Kurtis and Nerple conversation that I had been saving for the opening of the next chapter and stick it at the end of this one instead--and with a careful bit of editing, I think it actually worked out for the best. Now Nerple can do his investigating without it seeming like I just threw him in at the last minute...oh, wait...I kind of did throw him in at the last minute...DAMMIT!!!**

**Okay, so please review! If I don't get enough reviews, then Laharl and the gang will all croak before the main course!!! Don't screw with the author, dammit! Review! Review! Review!**

**Laharl: Crap! Will someone shut her up already?!?**

**Prier: Uggh...is she always like this?**

**Etna: Trust me, you don't want to know. Usually, we never have room for commentary at the end of a chapter...Laharl got a disclaimer once, though.**

**Prier: That's horrible. The author needs to die horribly just to show how horrible this horribleness is.**

**Flonne: Leave it to me!**

**--Pulls out a machine-gun--**

**Flonne: In the name of love, please die quickly! --Fires a volley of shots towards Watery-the-Strange-- Ha, HA! Love triumphs over all!**

**Etna: Um...Flonne? You missed by a mile...**

**Prier: YOU ALMOST HIT ME!!! WHO THE HELL GAVE YOU A GUN-HOLDING LICENSE, ANYWAY?!?**

**Flonne: --Runs away to avoid interrogation--**

**Let's end this before things get out of hand. And don't forget to review! RAWR!!! I am the all powerful Watery-the-Strange, bitches! I can and will kill off characters at the drop of a hat! Like this!**

**--Prier, who had been chasing Flonne relentlessly, suddenly drops like a puppet whose strings have been severed--**

**Capiche?**


End file.
